Innuendo
by Beyond-BB-Birthday
Summary: A series of oneshots, featuring Style, Stenny, Crenny, K2 and Creek!
1. You May Now Kiss The Jew

"It's not funny, dude!"

Stan groaned, playing with his bowtie stupidly. Kyle chuckled from a few feet away. They stood in a small dressing room before a tall, elegant mirror, both men wearing their most formal attire.

"Need some help?" Kyle asked his long-time best friend. Stan shook his head stubbornly. He continued trying to tie the damn thing, but with no success. "C'mon, man," Kyle said. "You're getting married in a half hour. You want to look good for Wendy, don't you?"

With a short nod, Stan dropped his arms to his sides, and let Kyle come closer to him. Kyle proceeded to help Stan with his bowtie, noticing how nervous and shaky his friend had become.

He said, "Chill. You got nothing to worry about," Kyle told him. He stepped closer to his friend and continued tying the clothing. Only a few inches separated their faces.

Stan shrugged. "I just don't know about this whole thing," he admitted. "I dunno if I can take this much pressure,"

Kyle smiled reassuringly. "You love her, though, don't you?" He asked softly.

"Yeah, of course, but…"

"Then 'but' nothing! You two were meant for each other," Kyle told him with a smile. Stan just nodded as Kyle finished with his bowtie.

"I don't think I'm ready to be tied to one girl for the rest of my life," Stan told Kyle in anxiety. "I'm not ready to say goodbye to the single life forever,"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "At least you've got her," he said with a slight scornful tone. Stan gave him a look.

"But you could have anyone, Kyle," he told him. "You're lucky gay marriage isn't legal – you don't have to commit like this. Once the ring's on, there's no turning back," he said dramatically.

Kyle smirked. "Well, the ceremony's not for another twenty minutes," Stan rolled his eyes. "Maybe it's not too late," he whispered huskily.

Stan gave him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

But Stan's question was useless, as Kyle planted his lips on Stan's. Stan kissed him back deeply, as he'd kissed Wendy so many times. Soon, they pulled away, and Stan smiled.

"Now it's just going to be harder to leave behind being single," he remarked. Kyle smirked and kissed his friend again.

There was a quick, sharp knock at the door before it swung open. The two pulled away quickly before meeting eyes with Kenny, who wore a large grin.

"So is the wedding off, then?" he said playfully. Stan and Kyle rolled their eyes. "One of Wendy's bitches – ahem, bridesmaids – told me to come and get you. That is, if you're not to busy with Jew-boy over there," he added with a smirk.

Kyle and Stan's faces turned a slight shade of red before they nodded, and Kenny left. Stan turned to Kyle again.

"I guess I'd better get out there," Stan said worriedly. Kyle smiled, giving his best friend one last peck on the cheek.

"If you kiss her anything like you did me," he told him, "Then you're in for a long, happy life together,"

Stan smiled and nodded, starting out the door. Kyle sighed, wiped away a stray tear from his cheek and followed silently.

* * *

A/N: So, this is the first in the series of oneshots I'm doing. I don't know how many I'll do, but probably around ten - thirty depending on how much time I can find. R&RPlz


	2. Rack 'Em Up

"Well, what's so special about _this_ club?"

Kenny didn't answer as he and Stan entered the under-populated building. Kenny lead them over to the bar, where he leaned against it. He turned to Stan.

"This is my favourite club because of three things," he announced. Stan gave him a look. Kenny ignored him and went on. "The first thing is that I can smoke in here, no questions asked," he told his friend, making a point of lighting up a cigarette right there and sucking on it.

Stan rolled his eyes. "And what are the other things?"

Kenny paused, taking time to wink and smile at a rather attractive bartender a few feet away. She made a face at him, exposing some rather disgusting looking teeth. It took Stan a moment to realize she was smiling. "The second thing," Kenny continued as the bartender walked away. "Is that she is a hell of a screw,"

Stan made a face, which made Kenny laugh. Something told Stan that the second reason had lead to the first.

"So what's the third reason?"

Kenny didn't answer for a few moments as he stood up and started across the large room. Stan followed.

"The third reason," he told Stan, leading him to a dark, rectangular object in the corner of the room. It was darker over here, so Stan couldn't quite make it out. "Is that they have a pool table here."

They stopped when they reached said pool table. Kenny turned on the light over the table and handed Stan a cue stick.

With another puzzled look, Stan simply held the long stick, unsure. "Kenny, I don't know how to play pool!" Kenny gave him a surprised look.

"How the hell do you not know how to play a game of pool?"

Stan shrugged. "I tried it once, at Token's place, but the stick somehow ended up through the window," he announced, face growing rather pink. Kenny chuckled as he removed the plastic triangle from the table, leaving the fifteen balls in a neat triangle at the end of the green table.

"Don't worry, Stan, it's not hard," Kenny informed Stan. He flicked the ash off his cigarette, chalked his pool cue, leaned over the table and shot the stick at the white ball, breaking the triangle nicely. Stan raised his eyebrows, impressed.

Kenny gave him an encouraging smile and gestured him forward. Stan swallowed and leaned over the table. He jammed the stick at the white ball gracelessly, missed, and groaned in frustration.

"See? I told you I'd suck," he said to Kenny. Kenny shook his head.

"You don't suck," he said. "You just need some help."

Stan sighed. Kenny leaned his pool cue up against the table and came over to him. Stan leaned down again, stick in hand, eyeing the que ball. Kenny leaned over top of his friend and put his hands over Stan's.

Stan looked over his shoulder at Kenny, and gave him a look. Kenny raised his eyebrows suggestively and Stan rolled his eyes.

"So now what?" he asked, slightly irritated. Kenny laughed at his annoyed tone.

He said, "All you have to do is put your hands like this," he instructed, moving his friend's left hand to hold the stick down against the green felt over his thumb. Then, he adjusted Stan's other hand on the lower part of the stick.

"Then line up the white ball with the stick," he told him. Stan nodded.

Kenny flicked more ash off his cigarette, before putting it out and flicking it to the (rather disgusting) ground. "Now you pull it out a bit," he muttered. He snickered slightly at the perverted side of his instruction. He pulled the stick back from the cue ball. "And bring it back in," he said next, sliding the stick forward slightly.

He and Stan repeated that twice more. "See?" Kenny told him. "Easy. Now just," he said, slamming the stick forward, much to Stan's surprise. "Hit the spot," he said with a laugh. Stan rolled his eyes.

They watched as the white ball hit a few colored balls, and as they rolled away. One of them fell into the corner pocket. Stan smiled slightly.

"Good job," Kenny commented huskily, still leaning over his friend. Stan shivered at the feel of Kenny's breath on his neck. He surprised himself upon realizing he liked it.

Finally, Kenny removed his hands from Stan's, and stood up. "So," he said. "Think you want to try the next shot on your own?" he asked with a smirk. Stan smiled knowingly.

"I don't know, I think I might need a bit more help from you," he said with a grin. Kenny smiled back.

He moved closer to his friend, his face less than a foot from Stan's. "I would like it very much if you would kiss me," Kenny whispered to Stan.

Stan did.


	3. May I Have This Dance?

"I can't believe you guys!" Kyle announced angrily as he followed his friends into the school gym. Cartmanand Kenny laughed evilly and Stan simply rolled his eyes.

Kyle frowned and looked around. In honor of their senior prom, the gym had been decorated lamely with streamers and lights. He could vaguely make out a song that he knew that was playing, and he watched in horror as everyone in the grade danced to the music and laughed. It almost seemed as if they were _enjoying _themselves.

"C'mon, Kyle, it's not that bad," Stan said to his friend, leading the group towards the table of food nearby. "It'll be fun, you'll see,"

Kyle scoffed. He watched boredlyas Stan left and proceeded to chat with Wendy. Cartmanhad muttered something about seeing if Bebe was here. That left Kyle to shoot Kenny dirty looks for making him come to this thing.

Kenny tried to cheer Kyle up with a few laughs, but they soon fizzled out. Kyle simply didn't want to be there, watching all of his happy, paired off classmates dancing and having fun.

"Oh, Kyle, why are you so pissy?" Kenny said in exasperation. Kyle gave him a look.

"I am not," he said firmly. "And I told you I didn't want to go."

Kenny rolled his eyes. "You can't miss your own prom! So what if you don't have a date? I don't! You should be thanking us we made you come!" he regretted saying that as soon as it was out of his mouth. Kyle glared at him.

"Yes, Kenny, thank you for making me come to this party, where everyone gets a date and dances and parties all night and is extremely happy and proud, _except me_," Kyle said icily, with heavy sarcasm. Kenny raised his eyebrows. Kyle sure was bringing him down.

Kenny thought for a moment before sighing. "Well, Kyle, I don't know what to do! You're here, you're alone. You might as well make the best of it. Unless you want me to be your – "

He stopped, his face growing red. Kyle gave him another look.

"I-I didn't mean that, I just…" Kenny babbled, cursing himself for being such a douche. "I mean, unless you want to – " Kenny groaned and mentally slapped himself.

Kyle raised his eyebrows and sighed. A slow song came on, and all the couples headed out to the dance floor, the girls eager, and the boys much less than eager. Kyle turned back to Kenny.

"Alright, why the hell not?" Kyle muttered. 'As if this night could get any worse, anyways,' he thought.

Kenny gave his friend a look of slight puzzlement, before shrugging it off. He smiled awkwardly at Kyle and took his hand, leading the way towards the other couples who were now dancing.

A few students gave the pair looks of perplexity, disgust and even encouragement as they held hands for a moment uncomfortably. Kenny and Kyle both placed their hands at the other's hips.

Kyle frowned when this didn't work very well. "Kenny," he whispered. "You be the girl!"

Kenny scoffed. "No, you."

Kyle blushed and rolled his eyes. He gave up, moving his hands to be on his friend's shoulders. He felt extremely stupid, his hands on another boy's shoulders, in the middle of a high school dance.

"Just relax, dude," Kenny whispered. Kyle nodded, and tried his best to do as Kenny said.

As the two danced silently, Kyle glanced around the gym. Almost all eyes were on them, staring oddly. He noticed Stan and Wendy looking at them a few feet away. Stan seemed to be holding back laughter, while Wendy simply looked disgusted.

Kyle chose to ignore his classmates, and instead focused on Kenny's breath on his neck. He realized how close they were. It was like they were embracing and moving at the same time. And, he liked it.

Kenny raised his head from Kyle's shoulder as the song began to finish. By this time, most of the onlookers from around the gym had gone back to their friends and dates, for which Kyle was grateful. He hated people staring at him.

The friends backed away when the song ended and glanced around awkwardly. Kenny smiled when their eyes met and gave Kyle a peck on the lips, not too long or too short, and walked away.

At this point, Stan ran up to his best friend and immediately proceeded to pelt him with questions.

"You like Kenny? Was that supposed to be a joke? Are you two together?" Stan rambled. Kyle didn't answer any questions, because, honestly, he didn't know the answers himself.

Kyle shrugged. "I don't know, dude, it just sort of…happened,"

Stan raised his eyebrows. "Well, I gotta go find Wendy," he said. Kyle nodded expressionlessly, still trying to process what had just happened. Stan smiled slightly. "Maybe you should go and find a certain somebody too," he added as he left Kyle to his thoughts.

As a slow song began to play once more, Kyle glanced around the room. His eyes locked on someone, and he grinned, weeding his way through the crowd to get to him with a smile.

* * *

XDVaguely based on a true story.


	4. Keep Your Chin Up

Craig sighed, trudging through the snow. "What I do for you, Tweek," he muttered.

It had to have been the fourth time that week. It had begun a few weeks ago when they'd started the ninth grade. And, not to Craig's surprise, Tweek was constantly freaking out.

"I wonder what it is _this _time," Craig commented to himself as he started up the driveway to his best friend's house.

He wondered, because, the first time Tweek had called him that month, it had been the 'underpants gnomes'. The second time it had been 'Manbearpig', and recently, it had been Barbara Streisand. Even that one had scared Craig to the bone.

Craig rang Tweek's doorbell and shivered on the doorstep. Quickly, the blonde boy opened the door and pulled Craig inside by the hand. He gave his friend a look of concern, and Tweek ignored it, dragging Craig up the stairs to his bedroom hastily.

When they were safely secure behind the door, Tweek heaved a sigh and sat down on his bed. Craig followed.

"So, what is it this time, Tweek?" Craig asked jokingly. "Dreamt about the gnomes again?"

Tweek's eyes were wide and worried, darting around the room. He shook his head furiously. Craig watched his frightened friend for a few more minutes, until he gave Tweek a worried look.

"Are…are you okay, dude?" He asked finally.

Tweek shook his head 'no'. Tears began to stream down his face, and Craig stood up.

"You know who's an ass?" Tweek asked randomly. Craig raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Tweek slumped his shoulders and looked down. "The kids at school," he announced. "The ones who make fun of me."

Craig said nothing for a while, simply processing what we was hearing.

"Tweek, I didn't know you…you want to talk about it?" he asked. Tweek shrugged. All this time Craig figured his best friend was just paranoid…

"You didn't really dream about the gnomes, and Manbearpig and Barbara Streisand, did you? You were scared of the kids at school, right?" Craig asked quietly.

"Yeah."

Craig nodded. "Are you sad?" Tweek nodded and stood up to face Craig. Craig stared his friend in the eyes. "Are you unconfident?"

Tweek looked at the floor of his bedroom. "Yes."

Craig smiled at his friend comfortingly. "I know what that feels like," he said reassuringly. He put a hand on the blonde's shoulder.

Tweek looked up at Craig. "You do?"

"Of course. Whenever you're sad, it makes me feel sad, too," Craig told him. Tweek smiled. Craig stepped closer to Tweek and embraced him tightly. Tweek hugged him back lovingly.

"Thanks, Craig. You always know what to say…"

The friends pulled away. Craig pushed back a few stray strands of Tweek's blonde hair from his face, and gave him a shy peck on the cheek. Tweek blushed and smiled sheepishly.

"As long as I'm here, you'll never have to feel sad again," Craig told his friend.

For the first time since grade school, Tweek beamed.


	5. Kenny Dies

"Right this way, Stanley," the nurse said softly.

Stan followed her down the hallway and into an off-white hospital room. She smiled and left, closing the door behind her. He breathed deeply. Stan hadn't had to face a hospital since fourth grade, but he knew it was what he had to do.

Stan walked over to the bed in the corner, where Kenny lay, asleep. His heart sank in his chest. Kenny looked so…broken, in his hospital gown and itchy blankets. Stan looked away quickly, glancing around the room.

He paced away from where his friend lay unconsciously. After a few minutes of trying regaining his composure, Stan walked over to the foot of Kenny's bed and glanced down at his medical chart.

"Adenocarcinoma," he murmured. He sighed. Medical-talk for lung cancer. '_How many times had I warned him that smoking was bad for him?_' he thought.

"Oh, Kenny," Stan said. "Why do I try to watch out for you when all you do is ignore me?" he asked pointlessly. He walked over to the side of Kenny's bed and knelt down beside him, his sleeping face a foot from Stan's worried one. He ran his fingers through Kenny's hair and sighed.

He stood up and looked out the small, curtained window. "I guess it's because I love you too much," he muttered. Stan shook his head, realizing how crazy he must look, murmuring to himself. He didn't care. Stan turned back to Kenny.

Finally, tears started to form in his eyes, and he could hardly stand seeing one of his best friends this way. This was why Stan hated hospitals so much – they were so depressing.

"You're one of my best friends, man," he said uselessly. Kenny was obviously asleep – and maybe that was a good thing. "I don't want you to…" his voice cracked. "Die," he said finally.

Stan continued pacing the horribly ugly patient room. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't around," he noted. "It just wouldn't be the same…"

Suddenly, there was a short rustling sound through the silence of the room. Stan jumped slightly and turned towards the source of the sound.

He rushed over to Kenny, who had rolled over and opened his eyes.

"You…" he said. "You really mean all that stuff, Stan?" he asked. Stan raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you were asleep!"

Kenny smiled and shook his head. Stan gave him a look. Kenny asked again: "You really care about me? You love me?"

Stan smiled. "Of course. Things wouldn't be right without you here, Kenny," he announced.

Before Kenny could respond, on of the various machines Kenny was hooked up to started beeping alarmingly. Stan looked worriedly at his friend, but Kenny remained calm. Stan looked at the screen that displayed his vital information. His heart rate was dropping rapidly.

Kenny sighed. "Don't worry, Stan," he said serenely. "I'll come back soon, I always do."

Stan just nodded slowly.

"And even if I don't," Kenny said slowly, his eyes beginning to close. "I'll die the happiest kid in the world."

* * *

A/N: Note: I do not own the chapter title.


	6. Save The Best For Last

Kenny McCormick has kissed every student in the twelfth grade at South Park High School.

Except for one person.

But that is, for now, beside the point.

Some people would call him a slut. Some have called him a male chauvinist pig, and other names of the sorts. Some even called him a visionary, (which was usually proceeded by a slap from the closest female listening.)

But Kenny was none of these things. The motivation behind his ambition to kiss every student in his grade originated from none other than Mr. Mackey.

It had all started one day in Psyche class, when the guidance counselor began rambling on the way he did about goal-setting and its impacts on the mind's determination for the future. Now, Kenny is all for the future, but on this particular day in Psyche class, the blonde was in a rather upsetting mood, and felt the need to challenge the teacher as much as possible.

"What's you're goal in life, Mr. Mackey?" he'd rudely interrupted him, mock-interestedly. "To see _just_ how big your head will get?"

There had been snickers from the previously bored class, to which Kenny smirked. Mr. Mackey had, unfortunately, been less than pleased.

"That is inappropriate, m'kay? Now you are going come right on up here and demonstrate the importance of goal setting, young man!" he'd muttered angrily. Kenny had then proceeded to the front of the room, where he provided some 'unnecessary' comments about Mr. Mackey's sexual orientation. Following the declaration of an exceedingly large amount of detention to be served, he was also given a very interesting experiment assignment.

This assignment consisted of setting a personal goal, and noticing how it affects your mind. Kenny had taken this as an opportunity to kiss his secret crush.

Unfortunately, as aforementioned, this has been rather unsuccessful, as Kenny McCormick has yet to kiss one person in his grade.

This person goes by the name of –

"Kyle!"

The mentioned redhead turned around, giving Kenny a smile. "Hey," he said casually.

Kenny breathed deeply. "Wanna come over? You can do my English paper," he added as though that would entice the Jew further. Kyle chuckled.

"All right, but I'm not doing it for you, I'll help," he said, his eyes smiling.

Kenny swallowed and nodded speechlessly. As they began walking out of the school and towards the blonde's house, he began to think. Why was he suddenly so worried? What about the hundreds of other kisses he'd forced himself into.

Unwillingly, Kenny reminded himself of when he'd had to acquire a kiss from Butters. He cringed slightly. And then there had been Pip, and Eric, and Timmy… But the worst had been Wendy. She'd been dating Stan at the time, which had, in short, led to their breakup, and Stan's declaration of hating Kenny, which later resolved in receiving Stan's kiss and making up. Kenny knew that this was all for the greater good: a kiss from Kyle.

As the orange-clad teen glanced over to his best friend, his mind challenged him. _How the hell are you going to get the damn guy to kiss _you_?_

There had been many methods in place before – he'd made a sort of pattern out of which one to use when appropriate. Some students responded best with honesty – telling them about his goal – while others were more accepting using manipulation, and others charm, (and thus later, heartbreak.)

And Kenny did feel bad, but he knew it had to be done. Kenny McCormick was not a quitter, no matter what.

"…And she never called back. Can you believe that?" Kyle questioned absently. Kenny snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he hadn't even heard his friend speaking. He nodded mindlessly, which Kyle didn't notice as he went on.

Kenny was a spontaneous, confident, charming kinda guy. He could convince someone he knew for twenty minutes at a party to come home with him with a couple of whispered words and a few shots of vodka. So he didn't understand why his stomach was doing backflips over someone he'd known since preschool.

Upon arriving at Kenny's house, the friends collapsed on the couch and began piling out their homework.

"So what's your English assignment, Ken?" his friend asked.

"Uh, you know, I'm not sure," he began uncertainly. He was actually unsure of whether or not he actually had an English assignment due. Kyle raised an eyebrow. "I think I have the sheet upstairs," he said hastily. Kyle nodded and turned to his own overwhelming pile of homework.

Kenny dashed up the stairs, into his room, and leaned against his bedroom door. He ran his fingers through his hair, asking himself that question once more. "Why is this so damn hard?"

He began searching for the English sheet about the assignment he was pretty sure was non-existent, trying not to think about the Jew in his living room.

"Hey, Kenny?" he heard Kyle's voice from his living room a few moments later. Kenny bit his lip and went back down the stairs, where Kyle met him at the bottom. He wore a look of confusion and suspicion, and held Kenny's Psyche project notes in his hands.

"Uh, what's this, man?" he asked slowly. He turned a few pages. "Why's my name here?"

Kenny's face became the colour of the blood now pumping a thousand miles an hour through his body. "That's my Psychology project…" he said in anxiety. Kyle looked up at him.

"Goal to be completed for analysis," Kyle read. As his ivory eyes continued scanning the page, they grew wider. "To successfully receive one kiss, on the lips, from every student in the twelfth grade." Kyle looked back up to Kenny again, his confused look now expectant.

Kenny rubbed the back of his neck with his arm, avoiding Kyle's gaze. "Yeah, Mackey made me do the damn thing, I wasn't actually going to…"

"It says here you only need one more person," Kyle provided, giving Kenny a look that just said, 'cut the crap'.

Kenny sighed. "And I'm guessing you know who that is, right?"

Kyle said nothing. He threw the papers across a desk to his left, and turned back to Kenny. "It's fine with me," he said apathetically. Kenny's expression brightened. "But firstly, I want to know one thing."

Kenny nodded quickly.

Kyle paused. "Will it be because you have to, or because you want to?" he asked quietly. Kenny froze.

He had been planning for this day for a while. He'd figured out the hundreds of possibilities that could arise from this experiment – but he never expected such a question as the one Kyle had so spontaneously posed.

With a look to the floor, Kenny shrugged. "Honestly?" he said.

"Honestly."

"Because I want to," Kenny replied shyly. Kyle's look softened. "The whole reason I planned this experiment was because I want to," he admitted.

Kyle wasted no time sealing their lips together hungrily, backing his friend up into the wall. For a few passionate moments, they lost themselves in each other, until finally breaking apart to breathe.

After a few seconds, Kyle's look became hard again. "If it was because you wanted to," he began. "Then why wasn't I the first?"

The blonde pondered this momentarily, until drawing a reasonably true conclusion.

"I guess I just saved the best for last."

Kyle smiled, and embraced his friend in another kiss, which would surely not be their last.


	7. Boys Will Be Boys

"This is stupid," Stan declared.

Kyle's look hardened, sending a frown up to his friend. Stan, still tangled over the gymnastics bar, ignored him pointedly. Kyle sighed and took pity on the teen, helping him down from the topmost bar of a set of uneven bars.

He fell with a distinct 'plop' on the thick mat below the apparatus, making his way towards the redhead dizzily.

"Now," Stan said, regaining his composure. "I know I'm usually 'supportive' of all your hobbies and interests and stuff," he continued. Kyle didn't like where this was headed. "But I've got to say that this is the gayest sport in the world."

With a roll of the eyes, Kyle dismissed his friend's comment. He led the two of them to the back of the lineup for the bars. Stan watched in irritation as Cartman completed the trick he'd tried moments earlier, sticking his tongue out childishly at Stan.

"It's not that bad," Kyle insisted.

"That's 'cause you're good at it. This is for pussies."

Kyle shook his head in disagreement. "It takes strength and coordination and balance and endurance and…" he paused, angry. "And I'm _not_ a pussy," he said furiously. Stan scoffed.

"Do you want me to help you or not?" Kyle asked finally, his face growing slightly red.

There was a moment of quiet grumbling from the black-haired boy, which Kyle didn't hear. Stan would have to get a hang of this stupid gym class exercise soon – he needed to bring his grades up. So, he figured, why not let Kyle give him a hand? Eventually, Stan agreed. "Alright. Help me do the stupid trick."

Kyle nodded, as Stan stepped up to the bar at his turn. He curled his fingers tightly around the thick length of it, looking to Kyle for instruction.

"First," the Jew said, putting his hands over Stan's. "Fix your grip – lock your elbows and straighten your arms. Don't hold too tight though." Stan nodded and followed, adjusting his grip as Kyle specified. "Now just jump forward," Kyle said, moving out of the way as Stan jumped as hard as he could.

When he was finally able to support himself, arms locked, his hips resting on the bar, Kyle gave his friend a smile. "Good," he commented.

"Now you just pull your legs over…" Kyle said, helping Stan to end up hanging from the top bar, untangled. Stan groaned in annoyance when his muscles wouldn't move the way he wanted. Finally, Kyle simply grabbed the boy's legs and forced them over the low bar. Stan scowled at him. But, it worked.

With a sigh, Kyle said, "Okay, now rest your legs on the lower bar." Stan did. "And just…pull you hips up, and over the top."

The raven-haired teen gave his friend a look. It said, '_how-in-the-world-do-you-think-I-can-do-this._' Kyle rolled his eyes.

"It's not hard."

"That's what she said. Or, I guess what _he_ said, since this sport is so gay."

Kyle scowled, surprised by his friend's attitude. "What's your problem, Stan? I thought you wanted me to help you."

Stan sighed. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I'm just fed up with this whole thing." Kyle nodded.

"It's okay. All you have to do is swing your hips over the bar. Here, I'll help," he said. Stan nodded with a newfound sense of determination. Kyle reached up, placing a hand at the small of Stan's back. All at once, the blue-eyed teen's face heated up and a chill ran down his spine. He shook it off and regained his focus.

He suddenly became aware of Kyle's other hand, positioned just below his ass, supporting his upper leg. He bit his lip awkwardly.

"Ready? Push off from the bar."

Stan did, pushing off with his feet and flipping over backwards, Kyle pushing his legs and hips upward. He closed his eyes, sure he was going to fall off and break something. To his surprise and relief, however, he ended up in a front support on top of the bar, smiling like an idiot.

He looked down at his friend with his grin. "Hey, I did it, Kyle!"

Kyle nodded with a sort-of half-smile, "Good job," he said slowly. "You might want to come down from there, though," he noted. Stan gave him a confused look.

With a nervous laugh and a blush, Kyle's vision strayed towards the ground directly below Stan, where his gym shorts lay, not affixed to his person as intended. Stan bit his lip and lowered himself to the ground to retrieve the lost clothing, putting them back on without a word to his friend, who was stifling his laughter with his hand, trying half-heartedly to wear a straight face.

Ten minutes later as the bell rang for lunch, the two friends met in the hallway outside the change rooms. Stan wore an unreadable look, and Kyle gave him one of sheer hilarity.

"So," Stan finally said as the two started down the hallway together. "That was your plan all along?" he mused aloud. Kyle frowned.

"Plan? Of course not, Stan, I –"

"Oh, come on," Stan joked, a slight smile of amusement playing upon his handsome features. "We both know the truth, Kyle, give it up."

Kyle scowled, not yet realizing that Stan was only joking. "You are so arrogant," he muttered.

Stan laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe you just wanted to have your way with my gorgeous self."

Kyle gave him a playful look, finally catching on to his scheme. "That's right, Stan," he said sarcastically. "I went through all that trouble just to fulfill my sick pleasures."

The boys continued walking and joking, oblivious to the small blonde boy they happened to walk by, whose eyes grew wide and his mouth opened slightly. He paused, looking down the hallway at the two to make sure they were out of earshot. "Well, hamburgers…"

* * *

A/N: Sorry for a slow update, and a lame chapter... just bear with me :3


	8. What Grinds Your Beans?

Craig supported the phone between the crook of his neck and his ear, hurrying around his room.

"So when can you be over, Craig?" said his boyfriend on the other line. Craig smiled, slightly confused. Usually Tweek does nothing but twitch, and won't go near a phone. (In fear of being electrocuted, of course.) So Craig wondered why his usually anxious partner was now not only on the phone, but inviting him over excitedly.

He searched hastily for a matching sock as he replied. "Five, Ten minutes. Why so excited, Tweek?" he asked more curiously than he'd meant. There was a pause before his friend responded.

"Well, the truth is, Craig," he said quietly. "That my parents are out of town today, and I thought maybe we could…well, you know…without anyone else around."

Craig's eyes were wide, though obviously Tweek couldn't see. He'd never known his best friend to think or talk like _that_. In fact, every time Craig brought up the more intimate factors of their relationship, Tweek would usually have a panic attack and refuse to speak to him for a few days.

"O-ok," Craig said, confused. He finally managed to locate his matching white-and-blue sock and affix it to his foot. "I'm leaving now, you want me to…bring anything over?" he asked awkwardly. Craig blushed.

Tweek said, "No – well, maybe some of those great cookies your mom made for when we're done."

The black-haired teen coughed and made an uncomfortable face. "Uh, yeah, sure. See you in a bit." He hung up the phone and proceeded down the stairs without letting himself think about what his friend had just said.

After packing a dozen of the aforementioned cookies into a Tupperware box and putting his coat on, Craig started for Tweek's house nervously.

Maybe, he thought to himself, that that wasn't Tweek on the phone. Maybe the gnomes really did get him and have replaced his boyfriend with someone who doesn't mind talking about sex. Craig shook his head as he approached the blonde's doorstep. He was being ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with Tweek. He was positive.

The teen rang the doorbell and waited, anxiously tapping his bare fingers on the sides of the plastic container he still held. When the door was swung open, he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and stepped inside, out of the cold.

Tweek gave him a large, flamboyant smile and an excited peck on the cheek. Craig was more than shocked at his extremely outgoing behavior. It was an interesting contrast to his usually psychotic attitude.

"This is gonna be so much fun!" Tweek exclaimed. Craig chuckled and smiled. Tweek grabbed his friend's hand and pulled him in the direction of his kitchen. Slightly confused, Craig set down the requested cookies on Tweek's kitchen table.

Craig looked over to the blonde questioningly. He beamed as though he'd just won a year's supply of caffienated beverages.

"So, do you want to grind or pump? Doesn't matter to me, I like doing both," Tweek said casually, as though he were discussing the weather. Craig gave him a look. He didn't know his friend was so up on that kind of slang…even he didn't understand what he was asking him.

Craig bit his lip and looked away from the skinnier teen warily. "Well," he began. "Maybe we're taking this too fast."

With a nod, Tweek smiled. "That's fine. I don't want to force you to drink anything you're not ready for, Craig."

A look of disgust played upon Craig's face at his statement. "Jesus, Tweek, what's gotten into you? You seem a little…different…"

His friend gave him a puzzled look. "I'm not any different. Well, maybe I'm a little more calm because I know what we're going to get to do today," he said with a smirk and a playful wink. "I don't know about you, but I've been waiting for this for a long time."

Suddenly, Craig burst into laughter. Tweek looked confused, but he took his time regaining his composure. After his chortling stopped, (and the teen wiped a few tears from his eyes,) he turned back to his questioning boyfriend.

"Just to get something straight," Craig said, still giggling a little here and there. "What is it exactly we're talking about?"

Tweek laughed. "Making coffee, of course. What else? With my parents gone we can use their Java Pro 5000." he stated seriously. Craig continued to laugh hysterically. "What's so funny about that?" he demanded.

Craig waved it off. "Nothing, just a stupid misunderstanding is all." Tweek gave him a look. Craig shook his head. "It was just something about the way you said 'grind' and 'pump' and 'drink anything I'm not ready for'… it's my fault, never mind, Tweek."

After a moment, the words clicked in and the spikey-haired blonde laughed awkwardly. "Well," he said quietly. "I can see why you'd be confused…"

With a weak smile, Craig went to get some coffee beans to calm his friend down.

A little while later after the coffee was finished and had been drank by the two teens, Craig expected Tweek to return to his regular, twitchy self. However, that was far from the case.

Tweek set his coffee mug down and leaned over to his friend's ear.

"You know, Craig," he began, whispering. "Coffee isn't the only thing we can pump today…"

With a smirk, his friend nodded, and the two stood up and smiled together in a mutual understanding.

That is to say, the two friends proceeded to the garage, where they spent a hardy afternoon pumping up everything from the Tweak's' bicycle tires to their basketballs, and a good time was had by all.

* * *

A/N: So how long did it take you guys to figure it out? Comment!!!

PS, grinding refers to grinding coffee beans, and pumping refers to putting water into a coffee maker, just to clear things up. :"3


	9. Jealousy Killed the Cat

The air was warm and dry, reflecting the common California climate. Luckily for the four teens in a rusting, blue car, they had gotten the air conditioner working, (after many frustrated smacks to the side of the dashboard, of course,) and were driving happily through the would-be heated state.

A few miles after the border, Kyle noticed something wrong. "Are you kidding me?" he demanded, smacking his hand on the steering wheel in frustration.

Stan frowned. "What's the matter?"

The boys started to slow down unwillingly. Kenny and Cartman were too busy fighting in the backseat to notice anything was wrong. "I…I guess we're running out of gas," he stated. Stan sighed.

A few yards later, the car stopped completely, and the redhead in the driver's seat got out of the car in annoyance. The arguing teens in the backseat stopped their feud and questioned Stan about what was happening.

"Well, good going, retard," Cartman said to Kyle with a scowl as everyone exited the no-longer-cool vehicle. "How the hell are we going to get to L.A. by six if we have no gas? Token said if we're late he's giving our rooms to some stupid chicks he met in Denver."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "You were the one who wanted the AC on. I told you it drained gas faster," he muttered. The brunette didn't reply. "I guess we'll have to walk to the nearest town."

Kenny laughed. "We?" he said jokingly. "It's your car, dude."

Stan frowned at the blonde. "It's not Kyle's fault."

Kyle shook his head. "There's no point in all of us going. I'll go by myself," he volunteered. After discussing the matter of who should go for gas for about ten minutes, it was decided that Kyle would go, accompanied by Cartman, because neither Stan nor Kenny wanted to hear him bitching about the heat in the car, and Kyle said he would make the sacrifice for them.

Stan and Kenny watched gratefully as Kyle and Cartman walked off down the hot road with an empty red gasoline container, bickering loudly.

"I'm so glad I'm not Kyle," Kenny commented as the two friends got into the front seats of the car where they wouldn't get sunburned. Stan nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. He's such a great friend," he added absently. Kenny bit his lip in jealousy. Instead of ignoring him, the blonde decided to make a bigger deal of it than necessary.

He coughed. "You know," Kenny began. "Kyle's done lots of things you don't know about."

Stan raised his eyebrows. "Like what?"

Kenny shrugged. "He smokes. Did you know that?" he said. He briefly wondered if he was taking his envy too far, but shook it off. Being a third wheel was getting old. When would someone realize that he could be a good friend too?

The raven-haired teen's eyes widened. "Seriously? No way. He would've told me. No, he wouldn't smoke in the first place. Kyle's too smart to do that."

Kenny made a face. "It's true," he stated. "I saw him with the goth kids last week, and they were all smoking."

Stan frowned. "You're such a liar, Kenny."

He scowled. "I'm not lying, it's true!" he said in frustration. Kenny didn't mind being called a liar when he was, in fact, lying, but when he's telling the truth, being called a liar by one of your best friends is just about the worst feeling in the world. Maybe even worse than dying.

"I hate it when you do that," Kenny muttered in irritation a few minutes of awkward silence later.

"Do what?"

The blonde shrugged. "Get all defensive of him. It's like you worship him or something." He mentally slapped himself. Now he was just trying to get himself into an argument.

To his surprise, Stan simply shrugged and rolled down the passenger window, leaning his head outside, despite there being absolutely no wind. "I don't. I just think you're being a jealous, lying prick."

Kenny stared at him. "_I'm_ the prick? When we were fighting over who should go for gas, all that came out of your mouth was that it wasn't _Kyle's_ fault. Kyle this, Kyle that, when the hell are you going to get it through your head that there are more people in the world than just – "

There was a brief moment of pure confusion as the two teens in the run-down, boiling-hot car on the side of a road somewhere in the Californian backcountry kissed. Kenny, who hadn't even realized it when Stan had forced their lips together in irritation, panicked.

More than anything, Stan seemed calm. There was no movement between the two, simply a long, slow kiss. Kenny didn't bother questioning his motives, because he couldn't find any logical ones based on their conversation. People in arguments don't kiss one another!

Kenny wondered if their lip-lock would last forever, but eventually, Stan pulled away. Despite everything, he scowled.

"Happy now? Can you shut up until they get back, now?" he said, annoyed. Kenny wouldn't meet his friend's eyes. Of course, he wasn't happy, and there was no way he would be shutting up until the other teens returned.

After carefully deciding on words, he planned out a whole speech to give to Stan, who was now gazing out the windshield blankly. When he turned to look at Kenny, he threw the damn speech out the window.

"Why did you kiss me if you hate me, Stan?" he blurted out all at once. Stan's look softened.

He replied, "I don't hate you. I just hate it when you go on and on about how jealous you are of Kyle. Maybe you don't realize it all the time, but I do. I kissed you so you'd realize I'm not obsessed with him. You're my friend, too, man," he said with a comforting smile. But Kenny wasn't so sure.

"Listen, Stan. You're my best friend in the whole world. But for you, Kyle is. Do you realize how crappy it makes me feel when my best friend in the whole world gets mad at me all the time and won't stop being nice to someone else?"

Stan sighed. "I know, I know. You're right. And I'm sorry," he said. His face lit up again and he beamed at Kenny. Kenny closed his eyes as Stan kissed him again, longer and deeper than before.

When they pulled away again, Kenny gave his friend a confused look. "Was I trash-talking Kyle too much again?"

The black-haired teen laughed. "No. I wanted to kiss you that time," he told him, a small blush playing on his handsome features.

The boys jumped as Cartman's loud, obnoxious voice could be heard drawing closer to the car. Stan and Kenny looked out the windshield quickly. As the other two finally got to the car, Kenny chuckled, noticing a cigarette hanging out of the redhead's mouth as he scowled at the yelling brunette beside him.

"Told you," Kenny murmured slyly as the two pairs joined inside the car. Stan gave him a look, and said nothing more.

Maybe Stan didn't know, but Kenny had been bluffing. Maybe Stan also didn't know that he knew what Stan's ticks were, and what the results of a carefully played argument could be.

* * *

A/N: Eew gross ending! I've got to stop writing when I'm too tired to realize the difference between a good ending and a bad one :) R&R


	10. Dear God, It's Me, Stan

Stan was shaking in fear and anxiety, but no one noticed. He tried to calm himself down a bit, but to no avail.

In the hospital bed next to his, Kyle tilted his head over to his best friend. Stan looked at him and gave him a no-worries smile. Kyle weakly smiled back and closed his eyes. The raven-haired teen went back to staring at the ceiling in worry.

He glanced at the door, wondering when the doctor would be in the wheel them into the operating room to rip his liver out and shove it into Kyle. He turned back to his sickly friend, but turned away quickly. It was hard to see him like that. Stan had never been one for hospitals.

Stan had never been in surgery before, and certainly not one that could save his Super Best Friend's life. He wasn't sure what a liver transplant entailed, but he was sure he was doing the right thing.

Finally, the doctor came in and pushed them into the OR. It was dark and creepy, but soon enough, someone put a plastic mask to Stan's face and told him to count backward from a hundred.

He didn't, and no one noticed. Stan didn't realize it, but his mind was suddenly reciting the Lord's Prayer. Stan didn't know he even knew the Lord's Prayer.

When he finished it, Stan felt himself drifting off. His breathing became ragged, as far as he could tell, and he lingered between reality and sleep. His mind held an atmosphere of confusion, peacefulness, and worry at the same time.

He felt himself floating, and panic struck him in the heart.

"God, please," Stan thought desperately. He felt like he was drunk. "Please let Kyle be okay. I don't even mind if I'm not okay, but make Kyle get better, God." He could've sworn he felt tears on his cheeks, but he couldn't tell. He was in a whole other world, it seemed.

Stan briefly wondered if, because Kyle was Jewish, God would make Kyle better, but he was totally out before his mind could worry about it.

* * *

Stan opened his eyes slowly and glanced around the room curiously. He was laying in a bigger hospital bed, with blue and white blankets. He was in a room with a nurse adjusting his IV.

He was momentarily in confusion, before everything came back to him. "Where's Kyle? Is he okay? What happened?" he blurted out. The nurse looked up and gave him a questioning look.

"I'm pretty sure he's just coming out of surgery, hon," she told him. Stan nodded.

When the nurse left, he swung his legs over to hang off the bed and put his head in his hands worriedly. He became aware of the large scar on his abdomen, but he didn't care. All he could do was worry about his friend. He glanced pointlessly at the clock on the wall, and then back to the floor. Stan's mind raced nervously, thinking of all the things that could be wrong with his friend. He jumped when the door was opened.

A male nurse wheeled Kyle's bed into the room beside Stan's, hooked him up to a bunch of machines, and left. After making sure no one else was coming in, Stan jumped up and rushed over to Kyle's bed, careful to avoid ripping out his stitches.

He was asleep, his chest heaving slowly. Stan pulled up a chair and sat next to his bed. The redhead's face was pale and exhausted, his hair bushy and all over the place. Stan put his hand on Kyle's and stroked his bony fingers with his own.

"Thank God," he muttered gratefully.

Stan sat there for hours, holding Kyle's hand and kissing him on the forehead. Kenny and his parents tried to call, but he wouldn't leave his friend's side to talk to them about pointless technicalities of his surgery and current condition. After all, if they really cared, they'd be here with him.

Eventually, (after Stan began to fall asleep against the wall,) the nurses made him go to bed.

But when the nurses left and turned off the lights, Stan got up and went right back to be by Kyle's side.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for another slow update. This'll be the last chapter for a while, 'cause I'm going on hiatus to deal with my depression, and I won't have the energy/time/will to write. I probably be back in early September, but I'm just letting everyone know so they won't hate me when I don't update for a month. :3 See ya in a bit.


	11. We're Really Connecting!

Craig sighed in relief as the bell for lunch rang throughout the classroom. Craig was the first of many to abruptly stand up and hurry out of the art room without waiting to be formally dismissed.

The black-haired boy hurried to his locker and dumped his stuff before proceeding hastily to the cafeteria. As he stood outside the door, he breathed deeply, trying not to burst in with all his might. After all, he hadn't seen Tweek all day.

He calmed down and entered the cafeteria slowly, glancing around for his best friend-slash-boyfriend. He grinned at the blonde when he located him and started over to his table as calmly as his excited mind could force his legs to manage.

"Hey," he said casually when he sat down across from Tweek, smiling like an idiot. "Haven't seen you all day."

Tweek's elbow was propped up on the table, his head resting in his palm. His hand, however, inconveniently covered his mouth so he didn't answer.

Craig raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

The boy opposite him shook his head.

"So...what's with the hand over your mouth?"

Tweek moved his fingers slightly. "It's nuffing. Mime m'kay," he murmured. Craig looked confused, but didn't say anything back.

After a few more minutes of Tweek covering his mouth as though he had some exotic flu, Craig had had just about enough. He was far too curious to simply forget his friend's awkward behavior.

"Are...are you sick or something, Tweek?" Craig asked his boyfriend with concern. Tweek, predictably, shook his head 'no'. Craig shrugged, pretending to not care. Of course, this was all part of his plan. "Alright, whatever." Craig suddenly stood up. "Then I guess you won't mind if I..."

And the teen reached across the table, ignoring the confused and judgmental looks from his peers around him. He forced his boyfriend's hand away from his mouth and immediately planted his lips on those of Tweek.

A few people nearby whistled, and Craig could distinctly hear Cartman, in homophobia, and Kenny, in perverted support, hollering from across the room, but they were easily forgotten. Both friends' eyes opened abruptly when Craig felt the cool chill of metal between their lips, and pulled back sharply.

"OW! Holy Sh-"

"Jesus Christ!"

Craig looked down to his mouth in sheer surprise that he's somehow managed to get his braces' wire caught around Tweek's previously hidden lip ring. He and Tweek stood up, alarmed, and made their way awkwardly (to the tune of the student body having a laugh attack) into the, thankfully empty, hallway.

"How in the hell?" Craig said as clearly as he could. Tweek twitched. Craig was momentarily distracted. "And when did you get your lip pierced, anyways?"

"On the weekend," the blonde said anxiously. "I didn't want to tell you yet, I thought you'd think I was stupid..."

Craig chuckled. "But talking through your fingers isn't stupid," he said sarcastically. Tweek frowned and Craig sighed, rolling his eyes. "Well, we have to get out of this somehow...you've gotta take it out."

Tweek immediately shook his head. "Can't, it's not healed yet."

The black-haired teen attached to him at the piercing snorted. "Well what do you want me to do? Take my braces off?" Tweek shrugged and nodded, to which Craig laughed again at Tweek's endearing ignorance. "It doesn't work like that. Just take it out for a second!"

After a moment of careful consideration, Tweek complied, removing his lip ring and unhooking it from Craig's crosswire. He hurriedly put it back in.

"Pfft. Calm down. It's not going to close up in the next thirty seconds," Craig said. Tweek shot him a look.

"I don't want it to get infected! Christ, having germs all over my mouth? That's too much pressure..." Craig laughed and put his arm around Tweek's waist and started back into the cafeteria.

After a moment of considering what had happened, Craig said, "Why your lip, anyways? Why couldn't you have pierced your nose or eyebrow or your ear or something?" Tweek shrugged, obviously trying to hide a sly smile. Craig gave him a look.

"I dunno, maybe I just wanted to my attached to your mouth for a bit," Tweek said with uncharacteristic confidence. Craig chortled and gave him a skeptic look. Tweek blushed a light shade of red. "Or maybe my mom wouldn't pay the extra ten bucks to do my eyebrow instead."

Craig smiled and shook his head with a laugh, simply staring at his friend. "You're too much, Tweek."

The blonde smiled, his blush only starting to fade. "So you don't think I'm stupid?"

"Of course not," Craig said flirtatiously, leaning across the table again, giving Tweek a quick kiss, careful to close his mouth completely so as not to repeat their previous episode. "Besides, that's gonna make for some kinky foreplay..." he thought aloud with a smirk.

Narrowly avoiding a flying dish of cafeteria food from Cartman, demanding that they stop eye-screwing in the same room as him, Craig gave Tweek a wink.

The bell rang, but neither teen had any intention of attending their next class.

* * *

A/N: I'm back! I'm feeling much better, so my stories will probably stop being so crappy! Yay!

Based on a true story XD

Comment/Review/Flame/Send Cookies!


	12. Divine Intervention

"Kenny, I'm just concerned, is all!"

The frighteningly wasted blonde before him frowned, slurring something about it being unnecessary for the Jew to worry about him. Kyle scowled, not believing his friend for a second.

"Come on, Kenny, you haven't cheesed since fourth grade! Why start again now?" the redhead asked sharply. Kenny laughed, as though he'd been joking. "Dude, what are you on, anyways? You need some help, Kenny."

"Pfft." Kenny rolled his eyes. "I'm not cheesing, just some..." Kyle couldn't make out what he'd said, but by then, he was already too pissed to listen anyways. "I just seem really...it's just a bad combo, Stan, I swear," the teen continued, Kyle sighing at being called by his best friend's name.

He stood up, leaving Kenny sitting upright on his bed - er, mattress. "Christ, Kenny, what do you expect me to do, leave you here to trip your balls off?" he asked rhetorically.

"No way, Stan..." Kenny murmured. Kyle raised an eyebrow and looked the blonde in the eye seriously.

"Jesus, are you okay? I'm _Kyle_, Kenny," he said with concern. "Stan and I don't even look alike!"

Kenny found this hilarious. "Of course you do...both got the black hair, except yours is red," he said idiotically. Kyle blinked. Kenny went on. "And you both have that nice tanned skin, 'cept yours is a lot paler..." Kyle almost laughed, and would've if Kenny wasn't worrying him so. "And you both have those blue eyes, but yours are green, and are much sexier."

Kyle rolled said sexy green eyes. Kenny reached for a bottle of whiskey on his night table, but Kyle moved it away, out of his friend's reach. Kenny didn't even seem to notice. The Jew sighed, looking around his friend's messy room. His inner Jew kicked in as he began to throw dirty clothes into his laundry bin and throw out week-old pieces of paper and food just for the sake of cleanliness. The blonde stared at him all the while, Kyle figuring he was just sleeping with his eyes open. Kenny was known for that particular feat of irregularity in South Park.

When Kyle had tidied the room to his partial satisfaction, he turned back to Kenny. "Dude, I'm not leaving 'till you come down, I don't want you to get sick or hurt or some shit," Kyle said, inheriting his mother overprotective trait.

The blonde shrugged and muttered an agreement. Kyle sat back down beside Kenny, looking at him worriedly. He rested his head in his palm as he waited boredly for what had to be at least the eighth time since twelfth grade had started that he'd tried to help Kenny.

Kyle scowled at Kenny's act of lighting up a cigarette and smoking it without glancing at the redhead. Kyle sighed. "God, you just don't get it, do you?" he asked. Kenny raised an eyebrow.

"Whadya mean?"

"I've been trying to help you get off the damn booze and the cigarettes and the acid and the cheese, and all you do is ignore it! It's like you don't give a crap about me at all!" Kyle exploded angrily. Kenny was taken aback.

They were silent for a moment before Kenny responded. "Kyle, I'm sorry," he said genuinely. Kyle's look softened. "But all the drugs numb my pain. I...I need them."

Kyle bit hip lip worriedly. "I didn't even know you felt that way, Ken," he said quietly. "Why are you in pain?"

"My dad, my brother, constantly being sent to hell when I die, but mostly..." Kenny paused and sighed. "I'm just depressed."

Kyle looked at his friend sadly. "Oh, Kenny," he said, embracing Kenny in a light hug. After a moment, Kenny returned it, wrapping his skinny arms around the redhead slowly.

"Hey, Kyle?" he whispered into Kyle's ear. "Thanks for trying to help me," he said, his voice cracking slightly. Kyle pulled away gently with a small smile. "You're such a great guy, Kyle. I just wish I was good enough for you..."

The Jew sighed, taking Kenny's hand in his own. "Jeez, Kenny..." he muttered lightly, not taking his eyes away from Kenny's. "Don't talk like that." He said nothing more and simply pressed his lips to Kenny's softly. Kenny smiled into their kiss, while Kyle was so disgusted with the taste of Kenny's mouth he focused on trying not to throw up in his friend's face.

A moment later, Kyle finally pulled back and looked up at Kenny, whipping his mouth with his hand discreetly. He pushed a few stray strands of his blonde hair out of his friend's face. "You're a good person, Kenny," Kyle said quietly. It was almost a whisper but still held volume. "But drugs are never the answer to your problems."

Kenny stared longingly into Kyle's deep green eyes and just nodded. He leaned into Kyle for another kiss, but the redhead hurriedly backed away.

"Say Kenny," he said quickly. "Why don't I make you some coffee so you can...er, sober up?" Kenny gave Kyle a look.

"But then I'll have coffee breath," Kenny replied simply.

Kyle was quick: "That's okay, Kenny. The important thing is to get you back to normal," he said with a smile. "Drugs are bad, m'kay?"

Kenny chuckled, his reduced mind forgetting about the state of his breath after ingesting coffee and childishly preoccupied with Kyle making fun of Mr. Mackey, and thus, didn't notice when Kyle forced three cups of the aforementioned beverage down his throat, claiming it was for his drunkenness.

Kenny was so distracted by Kyle's display of friendship and a few more (albeit, short) kisses, that he neither noticed or minded when his friend proceeded to brush the blonde's teeth for him, also claiming that it was for his own good.

The blonde just nodded, too busy studying those sexy green eyes.

* * *

A/N: Okay, guys, I have made a decision. I'm going to try and get 100 reviews with this story! :o So review to help me get my first 100-review story and I'll love you forever. :3


	13. ILY

Just in case I'm an idiot and it's confusing, [which is highly possible :)] Red&Blue is Stan, JewFro is Kyle and Fishsticks is Kenny.

* * *

Red&Blue says: Hi, Kyle.

Red&Blue says: You there?

JewFro says: Hi, Stan. Sorry, I was reading something.

Red&Blue says: That's okay. What's up in Colorado? Wish I could be there with you and Kenny and hell, I even miss Cartman a little.

JewFro says: LOL, are you kidding me? A week away from the fatass is what I need...

JewFro says: But things are good here. How about in Oklahoma? How was the funeral?

Red&Blue says: Eh, boring. I didn't even know the braud.

JewFro says: :( Stan, that's not very nice, you should respect the dead.

Red&Blue says: Yeah, yeah, I know. Got the BS from my mom this morning, don't worry. So, how's Bebe? ;)

JewFro says: *sigh* I was going to wait until you got back next week to tell you...

Red&Blue says: What is it?

Red&Blue says: Kyle?

JewFro says: It's nothing. Not important.

Red&Blue says: C'mon, Kyle, you can tell me. I'm your best friend.

JewFro says: I know...I just think it's something I should tell you in person.

Red&Blue says: You know me, Kyle, now that I know there's something to be told, there's no way I could wait until next week! I'll die of curiosity. I promise I won't get mad or freak out or anything if that's what you're thinking...

JewFro says: Okay, Stan. But no matter what, you have to promise we'll still be friends.

Red&Blue says: Of course. Promise.

JewFro says: I just know you're going to hate me...

Red&Blue says: I could never hate you, Kyle!

JewFro says: Okay, you're right.

JewFro says: Bebe and I broke up, because I... I think I might be gay. For, um, you. I like you.

JewFro says: Are... are you okay? I knew you'd hate me, I just knew it.

Red&Blue says: No, I don't Kyle, I'm just...surprised, is all. Just give me a sec.

JewFro says: Okay.

Red&Blue says: Kyle, I don't know how to say this, but... I think we should just be friends.

Red&Blue says: Ky?

JewFro says: Yeah, okay. Whatever you think. You're totally right.

Red&Blue says: Ugh, I'm a terrible person, aren't I? I'm sorry, Kyle.

--- JewFro has signed off ---

* * *

Fishsticks says: Hiya, Stan!

Red&Blue says: Hi, Kenny. I'm not in the mood to talk much.

Fishsticks says: Why?

Red&Blue says: *sigh* I'm just not, okay?

Fishsticks says: Well, you've been back from Oklahoma almost a week and no one's seen you yet. Something wrong?

Red&Blue says: NO KENNY, NOTHING IS WRONG, SO WOULD YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?!

Red&Blue says: Sorry, I've just been... preoccupied. Stressed out.

Fishsticks says: It's okay, Stan. Why are you stressed out, though? It's summer, you should be having fun with Kyle and I!

Red&Blue says: Summer sucks. And the last person I want to hear about right now is Kyle.

Fishsticks says: o.0 why? He's your best friend.

Red&Blue says: I screwed everything up. I'm a jerk.

Fishsticks says: No way, you and Kyle have been best friends for almost sixteen years! Since PRESCHOOL, dude! You must be just overreacting. I'm sure Kyle would understand, whatever's going on between you guys.

Red&Blue says: You don't understand, Ken! He told me that he likes me and I go and say that I just want to be 'friends'. He must think I'm an asshole.

Fishsticks says: Well, do you like him back?

Red&Blue says: I don't know! I always thought I liked girls, but now Kyle's suddenly gay for me and I just don't know anymore, man! What do I do here?

Fishsticks says: Hmm...

Fishsticks says: I think you should go out with him.

Red&Blue says: Why?

Fishsticks says: Think about it. Right now, neither of you are happy, but by going out with Kyle, that'll at least make him happy, right?

Red&Blue says: I guess so. But what if I end up not liking him? Don't you think I should just give it more time? And isn't it kind of mean to lead someone on like that?

Fishsticks says: To be honest Stan, the whole situation of you not liking Kyle in the end? I don't think that it will happen.

Fishsticks says: I think you two were meant for each other.

* * *

--- JewFro is _Busy _---

Red&Blue says: Kyle, are you there? I really need to talk to you.

JewFro says: I'm here.

--- JewFro is _Available _---

Red&Blue says: Ky, I'm sorry. I don't think this is working out, you know, us just being friends.

JewFro says: So you're just going to end our friendship over this?

Red&Blue says: NO! No, Kyle, that's not it at all...

Red&Blue says: What I'm trying to say is that...

Red&Blue says: I love you.

JewFro says: I... I thought you just wanted to be friends? I thought you were straight...?

Red&Blue says: I'm not really sure of very much right now. I've only had a few days to think everything over, but... I'm sure of one thing, and that is the fact that I love you, Kyle Broflovski.

Red&Blue says: We'll always be friends, but if you want something more, count me in.

JewFro says: ...

Red&Blue says: ?

JewFro says: Stan, I feel the same way. I'm confused about lots of stuff, but I know that I love you also.

Red&Blue says: :)

Red&Blue says: So tell me - how fast can you log off, sneak out your bedroom window and come over here?

JewFro says: ;D I guess we'll just have to find out...

--- JewFro has signed off ---

--- Red&Blue has signed off ---

* * *

:O Wow, I am so stupidly fond of this one. Found it digging through my Google Docs trash last night and I just had to post it! Sorry about the AIM/MSN/Whatever formatting, But I'd never written anything other than narration and wanted to give it a whirl.

Urg, so many ellipses DX

34/100...


	14. I'm A Good Person

I'm Tweek, and I'm a good person.

I pay my bills and taxes on time.

I sponsor sick, starving children in Africa,

I volunteer at homeless shelters on weekends.

I participate in walks to help cure everything from cancer to heart disease.

I go to work everyday and do a good job.

I help my friends with their problems.

Every day after a hard day at work, I come home and help my boyfriend, Craig, with dinner.

I'm a good person.

But if I'm a good person, why wouldn't the doctors let me see my boyfriend when he got sick?

And why wouldn't they accept my health insurance that would've made him better?

Good people aren't supposed to lose the ones they love, are they?

I lost my best friend and the love of my life, and the world lost a good person.

Craig died because we weren't married.

But the thing is...

I would've married him if I could.

* * *

Pretty short, :o apologies! Based on a DD I came across a million years ago.


	15. Taking Off

"No way."

"C'mon, Kenny - "

"No."

"But - "

"_No._"

Kyle glared at the blonde before him. He opened his mouth once more to try to sway him, but Kenny had already uttered that monosyllabic word that made him close his mouth once more. The redhead sighed and glanced at his watch. He bit his lip.

"Look, Kenny," he said firmly. Kenny rolled his eyes. Kyle ignored him. "When that plane goes up in fifteen minutes, we're gonnabe on it."

Kenny snorted. "I'm _not_ getting on that plane. End of story."

Kyle shook his head and grabbed Kenny by the arm, forcing him towards the plane. Unfortunately, the other teen was much more muscular and had a substantial amount of force. He easily broke free of Kyle's grasp.

"Jesus, what's wrong with you?" Kyle demanded angrily. "We're supposed to be on our way to San Fransisco! God, you do this every spring break."

Kenny just shook his head. "If I get on that thing, it's going to crash!"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "No it's not, Kenny, now you're just being irrational." Before he could continue lecturing the blonde, his cell phone buzzed. He groaned. "One sec," he said in irritation, answering the call and momentarily leaving Kenny to his thoughts.

The blonde bit his lip. He surely didn't want to be responsible for yet another vacation that his friends would miss out on because he was afraid of flying. But, on the other hand, Kenny was sure the plane would crash and that he would die yet again.

A moment later, Kyle pocketed his phone and put a hand to his head. "Good God. Stan and Cartman are stuck in traffic!" Kenny raised his eyebrows. Kyle groaned, popped two Tylenol into his mouth and rubbed his temples. "Well," he said, clearly stressed out. "I guess we're going to miss out on yet another spring break."

Kenny sighed, looking out the window at a plane taking off. "You know what, Kyle?" he asked absently. He looked into his eyes and realized that this Jew needed a vacation.

"What?"

"We're getting on that plane and going to San Fransisco."

After a moment, Kyle beamed and proceeded to drag Kenny through the overwhelming group of people crowding the airport.

"Okay, we gotta hurry, Kenny," Kyle said as they hurried to their gate. "Stan and Cartman probably won't make it in time to catch the flight, but maybe they can get the next one..."

Kenny just nodded, trying to keep up with the redhead's frantic pace, dragging their suitcase-on-wheels behind him.

By the time they were taking the plane steps three at a time, bursting into the airplane and taking their seats hurriedly, the plane was starting down the runway. Kenny breathed deeply, trying not to regret his decision to fly.

Kyle burst into loud, obnoxious laughter that made more than a few heads turn as the plane took to the air, looking out the window. He directed Kenny to follow his line of sight, down to where Stan sprinted furiously after the plane, Cartman attempting to run after him, his weight holding him back.

Kenny giggled nervously. Even something as hilariously stupid as his friends missing their flight and foolishly trying to stop it on foot couldn't calm his nerves. He breathed erratically. Kyle gave him a look of concern.

"You okay?"

Kenny could feel his heart rate increasing. "Yeah..." He groaned, figuring he was as good as dead (again).

Kyle wasn't buying it. He frowned and took his friend's hand. "Dude, calm down, there's nothing to be afraid of," he said soothingly. Unfortunately, Kenny was beyond reason. It took all of him to keep himself seated and to keep from causing a scene. Kyle sighed and kept trying to calm him, but Kenny could barely hear a word of it through his own frantic thoughts of panic and fear.

"Oh God!" Kenny exclaimed, clutching his heart desperately. Kyle looked alarmed. "We're all gonna die!"

A few concerned and annoyed passengers nearby looked over, but neither Kyle nor Kenny noticed. Kyle swallowed and attempted to make his friend shut up.

"Kenny!" He said in irritation. "What is your problem?"

The blonde continued to breathe heavily, but turned to face the Jew. "I...dunno," he said worriedly. "I just think that getting on this plane with you was a bad idea."

Kyle raised an eyebrow and promptly let go of Kenny's hand. "Why?" he demanded.

Kenny shrugged. "I just figure that if I'm on this plane that it will probably crash, knowing my luck, and I'll die," he said. "That would probably mean that you'd die too. I'd come back, but I don't think you could, Kyle."

The redhead paused for a moment to think. "So...all this was because you were worried about me?" Kenny nodded. Kyle gave him a bit of a smile. "Well, that's nice, but I still think you're overreacting."

Kenny sighed. "I guess you're right," he said. "Thanks for trying to make me feel better."

Kyle smiled. "Well, I think it worked, didn't it? You're not still scared of flying, are you?"

The blonde thought. "Hey, I think you're right. I feel a lot better, actually." He gave his friend a smile. "You're the greatest."

Kyle chuckled and laid his head on Kenny's shoulder, where it remained for the rest of the flight, Kenny completely calm.  


* * *

  
Sorry for the slow update... 40/100 :)


	16. Happily Ever After

Everything. It was everything. He rifled through the box once more. Yeah, it was everything. He'd made sure of it.

The blonde slipped on his trademark orange parka and his old, white sneakers. Well, they used to be white. Now they were stained with dried blood and caked with dirt. The teen's scrawny arms picked up the box labeled 'Stan' and started down the stairs and outside.

Everything. It was all going back to him. It was all over. Kenny cursed himself for unconsciously knowing the way to his house. A habit he would surely have to break himself of.

Yep, it was all there. His toothbrush. The CDs he'd left in Kenny's truck. Even his blue-and-red-poofball hat. Kenny coughed and looked away from the damn box when his eye caught the light reflecting off of a broken picture frame. He didn't want to see the ripped photo of him and Stan, torn right down the middle, right between the two of them.

Finally, he was here. Stan's car was in the driveway, so surely he was home. But Kenny didn't ring the doorbell, or even knock. He didn't want to see him. The blonde set the heavy box onto Stan's porch. Kenny bit his lip and retrieved a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of his worn-out jeans. He didn't open it. He simply set it atop the pile in the box and stared at the ground.

This was it. It was officially over. He'd already received his extra toothbrush, his CDs and his various pairs of glasses left at his ex's. Everything. It was supposed to be over. So why wouldn't his mind let his body leave?

Kenny suddenly became very interested in clearing the snow off of the Marsh stoop with his shoes. It wasn't until his foot accidentally nudged Stan's box of things he'd left at Kenny's that he became alert. His ex-boyfriend's spare house key was tossed from the cardboard container and landed with a loud 'clink' on the cement beneath him. Kenny could hear footsteps from inside Stan's house, surely coming to the door to see to the noise.

He panicked. But still, he didn't move. Maybe he needed this. Maybe his brain was right: he needed to see Stan to let go of him. Or maybe he was just going crazy.

"Oh God," he muttered as the door opened.

And there he was. And God, he was hot. Yeah, he was wearing pyjama pants, and yeah, his hair was a mess. In short, it looked like Stan had just rolled out of bed. And Kenny had never loved him more.

"Kenny? What are you doing here?"

"Uh, I - " The blonde stuttered and blushed madly. "I just came t-to drop off some of your stuff."

Stan uselessly tried to flatten his hair. He nodded, and picked up the cardboard box from the porch. With an awkward nod goodbye, Stan disappeared into his house, and once again, it was done. Over. Fin.

Kenny turned to leave, exhaling in relief. He pretended not to hear when the door opened once more behind him. He pretended not to hear Stan call his name. But when he felt his hand on his shoulder oh-so-familiarly, he had to acknowledge him. He turned slowly.

Stan held Kenny's letter, staring at him emotionlessly. "I...I thought we were over."

Kenny gave the raven-haired male a confused look. "What...what do you mean?" Stan shook his head in puzzlement.

"I can't believe I actually thought," Stan said, trailing off. "I can't believe I thought I was over you, Kenny,"

The blonde smiled. "I've been waiting to hear that forever." Stan didn't smile. Kenny frowned, wondering if he'd said something out of line.

"What?" he asked softly. "Stan, I love you."

Stan shook his head and turned away from him without a word. Kenny obviously couldn't see, but he could tell Stan was on the verge of tears. After being friends for twenty years and dating for five of them, Kenny had grown to know Stan amazingly well. As he figured, Stan cried silently. Kenny tried to comfort him, but he shook him off. "Kenny, go home. Please."

Kenny tried to recall times in his life when he'd been more confused than he was now, but none came to mind. "Christ, Stan, what's wrong?"

Stan wiped his face with his arm. "I'm seeing someone."

His heart sank. Not substantially, because South Park was a small town, and word got around quickly when someone had a new bed to sleep in. Kyle's bed, in Stan's case. Kenny didn't say anything.

"You said that you're not over me," Kenny stated. "You..."

Stan shook his head. "I'm not over you. But I'm not going to have an affair, Ken. I can't do that to... to him."

Stan turned around and Kenny nodded solemnly. He swallowed. "Can we be friends?"

The bed-headed teen looked surprised, to say the least. "I want to," he said. Kenny felt the pang of a 'but' coming on. "But I'm afraid I'll want something more. And I won't do that to Kyle, no matter how much I love you."

Kenny hated being right. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and nodded. He cleared his throat and Stan looked at him again. They exchanged a brief peck on the lips before Stan handed Kenny back his piece of paper, and went back inside. Kenny, alone and feeling like life was no longer worth living, unfolded his letter.

He read from the letter, and also from his heart. "I'll love you forever."

The single-lined letter fell to the ground with many a tear drop on it's surface. An anorexic-looking blonde teenager ran down the streets of South Park, trying to remember exactly where his father kept his loaded revolver.

* * *

A/N: Poor Kenny :(

Sorry for a lifetime-long update. Nah, I actually don't have a good excuse this time. Anyways, expect fewer updates, as I'm currently channeling all my creative energy into "Nine Good Reasons" for a bit. I didn't think it would be so popular... XP

47/100!! Almost half-way, guys!


	17. It's Not You, It's Me

It was late. Past midnight. Kyle Broflovski stared at his cellphone screen, the piercing white light burning his eyes. Usually, Kyle was very anal about getting enough sleep, but tonight was different. He didn't know what made him stay awake, but he just couldn't bring himself to fall asleep. He could hear Ike snoring from across the hallway.

Kyle pulled up his bed covers, embracing the newfound warmth. He glanced back to his cell phone screen, and mindlessly typed in a greeting to his best friend.

After a moment, Stan returned his greeting in the form of a text.

"Hey. Yeah, I can't get to sleep either, and I have a major math test tomorrow :O"

The redhead breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart and tired eyes. "That sucks. Hey, can I ask you something?"

A longer pause this time, which only caused the Jew's heart to beat faster. He reached over to his bedside table and grabbed an aspirin, swallowing the pill in one try without any water. He tried desperately to calm himself.

"Ha, you just did ask me something. :) Sure, what is it?"

Kyle swallowed hard. He typed frantically into his cellphone, trying to find the right words. "First promise me that we'll be friends no matter what. Forever."

This pause was so long that Kyle got up and paced his room, reciting the set notation for rational numbers in his head to take his mind off of everything. He popped another aspirin, sighing in relief when he felt the vibration of his phone in his hand.

"Alright."

Kyle was shaking so hard from anxiety that he had to wait a minute before even attempting to type his next message to his friend. "Will you be my boyfriend? Please don't hate me."

The teen stared at the screen a few moments longer, one thumb hovering over the 'send' button, and the other over the 'cancel' button. Finally, he simply closed his eyes and let his thumbs decide. When he opened them again, his cell phone was alerting him that the message had been sent successfully.

Sent.

Too late.

Ruined. He knew it.

Maybe not, Kyle told himself. He couldn't be sure until Stan got back to him, right? Right?

Then why did he feel like he'd just thrown fourteen years of friendship down the toilet?

Buzz.

Kyle stared straight ahead at his bedroom door.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Finally, the Jew couldn't take it any longer, and he nervously snatched up his phone, sliding it open frantically. Tears slid down the redhead's face and he threw his cell to the bed in frustration. He stared down at the screen, the message blurred by the alarming volume of tears clouding his vision.

"Kyle, I'm sorry, but I don't like you like that, and you know that."

After about ten minutes of crying his soul out, Kyle reached for his phone once more. "K. No problem. See you at school tomorrow." The great thing about texting is that the other person can't tell when you're lying.

Kyle settled himself back into his bed and cried long and hard. He kept crying when Ike got up to use the bathroom. He kept crying when his father snuck downstairs for a beer. The teen cried until his tear ducts were dry, at which point, he fell asleep.

Kyle Broflovski woke up Tuesday morning, being instantly reminded of Stan's rejection the night before. He didn't say a word to anyone. He had no one but Stan. Neither teen said a word at the bus stop, nor on the ride to school, nor during school. During lunch, Kyle holed himself up in the bathroom and whispered to himself, all the while trying desperately to convince himself he wasn't crazy.

"But...I love you."

* * *

*Sad* based on my day today :(

49/100


	18. Follow You Down

It had been two years. Two years today, to be exact.

Unfortunately, Craig entered the restaurant with less-than-happy feelings, and less-than-desirable intentions. It really was too bad that he had to break up with Tweek after all this time, but it simply had to be done. He reminded himself why he was doing this, which prevented tears from escaping his eyes.

He sat down at their reserved table and fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he waited for his soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. The waiter brought him a glass of water, which Craig gulped down quickly, hoping it would help sooth his nerves. It didn't.

When the blonde arrived, Craig stood up, plastering a fake smile on his lips and giving him a kiss. Their last kiss, he thought sadly. Still no tears came, however.

"Happy anniversary, Craig," Tweek said with a smile as they sat down once more. Tweek and Craig both ordered the spaghetti, each with a glass of wine.

Craig bit his lip nervously and avoided eye contact with Tweek. After a few moments of seemingly normal silence, Craig and Tweek broke it at the same moment.

"There's something I have to talk to you about," the two said at roughly the same time. Each male laughed awkwardly before Tweek insisting that Craig commence the conversation, and vice-versa.

After finally coming to the consensus that Tweek would speak first, the only-slightly jittery blonde did so. "Well, Craig, to be honest, I don't know how to say this..." he muttered. Craig wore a neutral face, secretly hoping this was going where he thought it was, so he wouldn't have to be the one to break Tweek's heart. He'd rather it was him who would be broken.

Tweek stopped, unable to finish. Craig sighed quietly in anxiety. Tweek stood up and pulled out a sheet of paper from his back pocket, handing it solemnly across the table to Craig, face emotionless, heart full of emotion.

Craig gave Tweek a confused look, but opened the folded paper nonetheless. He frowned, reading the white-and-blue block letters on the header. "Hell's Pass Hospital...?" Craig looked up at Tweek worriedly. Tweek kept his eyes closed, and his friend resumed reading the official document in his fingers.

After about three full minutes of reading and rereading every typed letter on said page, Craig finally returned the paper to Tweek, removing his eyeglasses and placing his face in the palms of his hands. Tweek said nothing.

When Craig finally looked up again, eyes red and hands drenched in tears. "H-how much time?"

Tweek didn't respond, but swallowed and continued staring into space.

Craig raised his voice in a mixture of shock and anger. "Tweek! Cancer!" he exclaimed nonsensically. "Cancer..." he said once more, so quiet this time it was almost silent. Tweek nodded numbly, reaching for his boyfriend's hand across the table, squeezing it tight.

* * *

Three months later, Craig recalled that night, that dinner at that fancy restaurant he'd planned to leave Tweek. It only made him cry harder, unable to believe that he'd planned to leave Tweek seconds before he'd find out that he had terminal cancer. Ironic, in a way.

He sighed, standing up and wiping his eyes on the back of his suit jacket. Mrs. Tucker placed a delicate hand on her son's shoulder and left to start up the car. Craig sniffed, placing one vibrantly red rose before the large slab of carved stone.

Stan patted Craig on the shoulder like his mother had, but unlike his mother, his hand snaked down his arm and into Craig's hand. Craig scowled and shook away from Stan. He took the hint and took a few steps back.

Craig didn't need the reminder of that night, that dinner at that fancy restaurant, nor the reason he'd planned to leave Tweek. It would only make him cry harder.

_Tweek Tweak _

_1995 - 2016 _

_Beloved son, friend and boyfriend. _

_"Wherever you go, I'll follow you down."_

Craig dried his tears once more, reluctantly taking Stan's hand, and leaving the graveyard.

But it wasn't really Stan he was with. Not really.

* * *

A/N: Grave quote belongs to the Gin Blossoms's "Follow You Down". (Great song!)


	19. Sweet Dreams

Kyle cheered as he virtually eliminated Kenny's video game character once more. Kenny shook his head in failure, tossing his controller on the bed beside him. "That's four times!" he complained. Kyle chuckled.

"One more round?" Kyle asked.

Kenny laughed, but agreed, picking up his controller again.

During the next round of video ass-whooping, Kenny mulled over the situation at hand. Usually the absence of Stan at a sleepover meant a slight lack of fun, being as Stan always had a million different ideas about what to do.

But luckily, the boys had just come back from soccer practice, and they were too tired to do much more than lay around playing video games.

"Oh, God, I'm kicking you're ass, Kyle," Kenny said, suddenly gaining an advantage in their virtual battle of button-jamming skill. Kenny's character kicked Kyle's character across the screen without hesitation.

Kenny laughed, leaning closer to the screen across the room from Kyle's bed. He performed a complex spell move on him, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Dude, are you like asleep, or what?" Kenny asked, not taking his eyes off of the screen.

Once he'd finished the round, completely owning Kyle's character, he glanced over at the losing Jew.

"Oh. Well, that explains it," Kenny murmured as Kyle flinched in his sleep. Kenny groaned in irritation upon discovering the reason for his win. He climbed out of Kyle's bed and turned off the gaming system.

"Dammit," Kenny swore, tripping over Kyle's Xbox. He flopped back down onto the bed and pulled the covers up over both he and Kyle.

Kyle make a sharp snore, rolling over to face Kenny. Kenny stared awkwardly at Kyle's sleeping face, resisting the temptation to reach up and push a stray curl out of the redhead's peaceful face. He shook it off, rolling over to face the opposite side.

The blonde fifteen-year-old closed his eyes, though he knew he probably wouldn't be able to sleep, being in the same bed as another dude. Well, maybe if it was any other dude than Kyle.

Kenny jumped about a foot into the air when he felt the sharp tickle of Kyle's toe on the back of his leg. When his heart resumed beating normally, he inched over a bit.

After a few moments of questioning his own sexual orientation, Kenny fell clumsily off the edge of Kyle's bed as his fingernails briefly brushed softly across his back. Kenny groaned, climbing back onto the bed, inching over once more.

Kenny sighed softly. Maybe being in a bed with Kyle wasn't so gay. Or maybe it was gay, and Kenny liked it.

The blonde was almost asleep when a skinny arm draped itself slowly over his torso. He laughed silently to himself about their situation. Kenny reached over with the hand closest to Kyle and quietly snaked their fingers together. Kyle's hand was cold. Kenny stroked the side of Kyle's hand with his thumb.

Kenny could've sworn he was dreaming when he heard the tired murmur of Kyle's voice. "Hey, Ken," he said, voice partially muffled by his pillow. "You asleep?"

Realizing that he was not, in fact, asleep and dreaming, Kenny said, "No."

"Me neither."

Kenny took a moment to process this. "So this arm thing -"

"Shut up, Kenny," Kyle interrupted, squeezing Kenny's palm tight with his own hand. Kenny took the hint and shut up.

Before either of the boys fell asleep, Kenny squeezed Kyle's hand back.

* * *

:3 Review! 58/100!


	20. Have Wheels, Will Write

My Truck, a poem by Kenny McCormick.

..

Blue, rusted, beaten up,

Old and chipped, but t'is my truck.

From an outside view, it isn't much,

But deep inside, it is my truck.

.

The seats inside still bear your scent,

To sit inside, to be content,

Reminds me of places we went,

And of all those late nights we spent.

.

The radio, I found, worked better,

When your hands were buried in my sweater,

To make true good use of my CD player,

Required removal of all clothing layers.

.

I much prefer my mirrors with mist,

And how it felt when we first kissed,

Lying silent in my truck's flatbed,

Peeling off blue-painted lead.

.

Being out of washer fluid,

Seems to make my wheels all skid,

I've done all that I can,

But it will never feel the same, without Stan.

.

From an outside view, it isn't much,

But deep inside, it is my truck.

Hell, it's my entire life,

And it seemed my life ended that night.

..

_**F.** Good poem, Kenny, but I'd like to remind you that this was supposed to be a science report._ _See me after class. ~ Mr. Garrison  
_

_

* * *

_Haha Kenny got in trooooouuuuuuuuble... i luffs him.


	21. High School Never Ends

Stan groaned as he entered the attic. He coughed as dust rushed towards him and up his nostrils. He sneezed and promptly turned the attic light on.

The previously dark room flooded with light and roughly thirty large cardboard boxes became visible. Stan sighed, realizing that cleaning out the attic would be a much more difficult job than he'd anticipated when he'd agreed to perform the chore. He grabbed the first box he could see and opened it up, trying to convince himself that it wasn't that bad. In exchange for not having to clean the attic, Kyle had to clean the bathroom instead.

The first four boxes were boring; they contained such items as old books, clothes and posters from both his and Kyle's childhood. Stan had made two large piles, things of his and things of his boyfriend's. Kyle's pile was admittedly much smaller than his own, as Stan was somewhat of a hoarder with his things, never wanting to throw stuff away, no matter how useless.

When Stan was just about to open up the sixth box, he heard footsteps climbing up the rickety steps to the attic, and he turned around.

"Hey, babe, need some help?" Kyle asked with a helpful smile. Stan returned the smile and nodded. The Jew sat down beside him and proceeded to help Stan sort through the many boxes of stuff.

Only a few minutes later, Stan happened upon an item of particular interest to the black-haired man. "Hey, Ky, look at this!" he said excitedly, motioning towards the yearbook he'd uncovered. Kyle took the book and opened it up.

"Jeez, this is so old," Kyle said with a laugh. "Look! It's us in eleventh grade!" he pointed to a small photo on the second page of the two waving with toothy grins, Stan in braces and Kyle in glasses. Stan laughed, reminiscing about their high school years.

**Four years, you think for sure,**  
**That's all you've got to endure,**  
**All the total dicks,**  
**All the stuck-up chicks,**  
**So superficial, so immature.**

**Then when you graduate,**  
**You take a look around and you say, "Hey wait,**  
**"This is the same as where I just came from,**  
**"I thought it was over, **

**"Oh, that's just great."**

Stan turned the page, remembering everyone from South Park High School. "Look, it's Cartman!" Kyle pointed out the said teenager, laughing heartily, Stan following. "Jeez, he hasn't changed at all," he added. "Dick."

Stan snorted, pointing out Wendy. "Neither has she. Stuck-up bitch," he said with a deep grudge.

Kyle rolled his eyes and turned the page again. "Face it, Stan, most people do all their growing up in high school, and then they're the same from then on." Stan just nodded and scoffed.

**The whole damn world is just as obsessed,  
With who's the best dressed and who's having sex,  
Who's got the money, who gets the honeys,  
Who's kinda cute and who's just a mess.**

The two laughed even further at Bebe's picture. She'd been voted 'best dressed' that year, but unfortunately, her clothes were now twenty years out of date, which made for some good-natured joking by the two.

"Hey, look at Kenny," Kyle said with a giggle. Stan directed his vision to a picture of Kenny flirting with Heidi, and Heidi attempting to ignore him. He chuckled at their friend. "Same old Kenny," Kyle said, turning the page once more.

They laughed at a picture of Token, Clyde, Butters and Tweek. Clyde and Token were high-fiving, Butters was smiling like the innocent little boy he was and Tweak was freaking out.

"Man, we should show this to everyone," Kyle said with a grin as he turned the page.

**And you still don't have the right look,**  
**And you don't have the right friends.**  
**Nothing changes but the faces, the names, and the trends.**

**Check out the popular kids,**  
**You'll never guess what Jessica did,**  
**And how did Mary-Kate lose all that weight?**  
**And Katie had a baby so I guess Tom's straight.**

"Wow, it's so weird how little anything has changed since then, huh?" Stan said absently, eying a picture of himself and Kyle holding hands in the cafeteria, smiling at the camera. Kyle nodded.

Kyle scoffed begrudgingly at Rebecca, his ex-girlfriend from eighth grade. She'd become a total bitch in high school and dumped him, which Kyle had never really gotten over. Kyle pointed at a photo of Craig from later in the year when he'd first developed his eating disorder. "Yeah, he's come a long way, though," he commented, referring to the fact that in the photo, Craig looked relatively skeletal, and now he had about ninety pounds of muscle.

Stan agreed and laughed at a photo of Clyde and Nelly holding hands outside, Nelly almost eight months pregnant. Stan marveled at the fact that after all these years, Clyde and Nelly were still together, albeit with five kids, but together nonetheless.

**And the only thing that matters,**  
**Is climbing up that social ladder,**  
**Still care about your hair and the car you drive,**  
**Doesn't matter if you're sixteen or thirty-five.**

**Reese Witherspoon, she's the Prom Queen.**  
**Bill Gates, Captain of the chess team.**  
**Jack Black, the clown,**  
**Brad Pitt, the quarterback.**

**Seen it all before,**  
**I want my money back!**

The next page had a large picture of Token, with dreadlocks and shades on, leaning on his expensive car that he'd practically been married to since tenth grade. Kyle snorted and shook his head. Stan turned the page.

He frowned, a large prom dress-clad black-haired female staring at him with a golden smile. "Whore," he said simply. Kyle rolled his eyes at Stan's hatred. On the opposite side of the spread, there was a small picture of Kyle and Scott Malkinson holding up a large trophy, having won some sort of chess tournament. Kyle blushed heavily.

"Christ, I was such a nerd," he murmured, turning the page quickly as Stan muffled a soft giggle. A photo of Jimmy Vulmer graced the page, him smiling awkwardly in front of a large crowd, presumably performing stand-up.

"Hey, it's Jimmy," Stan commented. Since high school, Jimmy had become a very successful comedian, with his own show. It was interesting for the two to see their friend on television all the time, and now see him in an old yearbook from twenty years ago.

The next page had a picture of the football team, including Stan, the star quarterback, grinning up at himself. Stan smiled, remembering the glory when he'd made that game-winning touch down in the playoffs that year. Good times...  
**  
The whole damn world is just as obsessed,  
With who's the best dressed and who's having sex,  
Who's in the club and who's on the drugs,  
And who's throwin up before they digest.**

**And you still don't have the right look,  
And you don't have the right friends,  
And you still listen to the same shit you did back then.**  
**  
**At the end of the yearbook, Stan tossed it aside into the pile of stuff to throw away.

"Hey, don't you want to keep that?" Kyle asked.

Stan shook his head and stood up. Kyle did the same and gave his boyfriend a look of confusion. "Why not?"

Stan shrugged as the two started towards the exit of the attic. "Nothing's really changed since then, Ky. Think about it," he said. "Bebe's still ;best dressed', Kenny's still a flirt, Tweak's still a spaz, Clyde's still a sweet-talker, Wendy's still a bitch, Cartman's still a dick and Nelly's still a slut," he said without hesitation.

Kyle shrugged. "I guess so, but -"

Stan put a hand on his best friend's arm and kissed him into silence. "I don't want to think about the past when the present is so much better," he said with a smile. "Everything is right now. Clyde and Nelly are married, Cartman's in the army, Wendy moved away, Tweak got off the coke, Craig eats again and Bebe's actually a nice person now. Why waste our time thinking about the past when the present is where we are now anyways?"

Kyle smiled and kissed his friend again, wrapping his arms around Stan's abdomen lovingly. "You're right about all those people. But you know what the best part about the present is?"

"What?" Stan said with a grin.

"Us."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the update from the jurassic... anyways, title and lyrics are from Bowling From Soup's High School Never Ends.


	22. Breathe Me

Lulz srry fer loong update, been really busy DX anyways, here yah go. Expect more updates X) (BTW, title credit to Sia - Breathe Me - great song :3)

* * *

"Kyle?"

"Kyyyy-uuhle…"

"Kyyyy!"

I jerked awake, sitting up from the desk I'd been sleeping at.

"Hey, babe, it's lunch time," Kenny informed me. I yawned and cleaned up my English books. "Jeez, I thought you were goin' comatose on me there," Kenny added with a chuckle.

I rolled my eyes. "I was up late last night, okay?" I said as I packed up my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder.

Kenny frowned as we left the English room. "Since when? You're usually in bed no later than ten." He smirked. "Or a lot earlier if it's _my_ bed."

I snorted. "Lots of homework," I lied smoothly, ignoring the sexual innuendo. Kenny seemed to know I was lying, but said nothing more as we weaved our way through the crowded high school hallway towards the library.

Kenny held the door open for me chivalrously, and I gave him a peck on the cheek.

"PDA, boys," the librarian reminded us (for the third time that week), shaking her head with a frown. Kenny rolled his eyes and put his hand in mine instead as we headed for our usual table.

Before we could reach said table, however, Kenny, knowing me all too well, stopped and grabbed my left arm. I knew resisting would be of no use due to Kenny's greater strength, but I tried anyways. Nearby students gave us looks but passed it off as friendly roughhousing.

Once I stopped freaking out, Kenny looked at me deeply before doing what I knew he would: he pushed up the sleeve of my shirt.

The blonde took one look at my arm and scowled, dragging me behind a nearby bookcase to scold me for the marks on my arms. "'Lots of homework' my ass..." he muttered angrily.

"I'm sorry, Kenny, it's not your fault!" I told him desperately. "I'm sorry."

"Jesus Christ, Kyle," Kenny fumed. "Do you even realize what you're doing? Do you realize how hard it is for me to look at that?" He demanded. I remained silent, knowing he wouldn't listen to me anyways. He breathed in and calmed down a bit before continuing. "Why do you keep doing this?"

I closed my eyes and tried to hold back tears. "Kenny, please don't hate me, it's not your fault," I murmured. Kenny sighed, pulling me into a hug.

"I don't hate you, I just don't want you to hate _yourself_," he told me, pulling away to kiss me. "Why do you do this shit, Ky?" he asked again. I blushed heavily, trying desperately to come up with a way to change the subject. "You can tell me," he added, guilting me into telling him the truth.

"I just can't take it, Ken," I complained. "My parents hate me so much for who I am... they're threatening to kick me out for being gay." Tears poured from my eyes.

Kenny kissed me again, and I rested my head on his shoulder as he held me close. "Don't worry, Kyle. It's going to be okay." I didn't say a word as I just cried into my boyfriend's neck as he stroked my hair lovingly. "If they throw you out, you can come live with me, and I'll give them hell for making you sad."

I gave one tiny laugh. "You don't have to be so protective," I informed him, muttering into his sweater.

Kenny kissed the top of my head. "Yes I do. I love you too much not to, Ky." I smiled and stood up.

"You're too nice for your own good," I told him. "Love you," I added, kissing his neck.

"You have to try and stop cutting, though," Kenny said firmly, looking me deeply in the eyes. "I hate seeing you hurt, but that's not the answer."

I nodded, looking away. "I'll try my best. For you."

Kenny smiled and put his arm around my waist as we emerged from behind the bookcase. I snuck my hand into his back pocket as we left the library. As we headed down the hallway, Cartman happened to pass us.

"Pfft. Fags," he said rudely. Kenny broke away from me momentarily to kick Cartman squarely in the genitals before we continued down the hall.

The fat boy's whimpers of agony were music to my ears.


	23. Gay, Dude

"Hey, Mrs. McKormick, is Kenny home?" Stan asked politely.

Mrs. McKormick smiled and replied. "He sure is, I think he's downstairs playin' on that Wii again. Can't tear himself away from it…" she mused, opening the door wide enough for Stanley to enter the house.

After thanking Kenny's mother and removing his coat and shoes, he proceeded downstairs to see his boyfriend.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Stan stopped to stare in amused shock as he watched Kenny dance in nothing but his boxers on a DDR pad. The black-haired teen snickered as some crappy Euro-trash song blared obnoxiously from the TV.

Stan supposed the chorus had arrived, because the on-screen arrows began to move unbelievably fast. He watched in further disbelief as Kenny ninja-ed his way around the dance mat, hitting every single arrow.

A few seconds later, the song ended, and Kenny did a small fist pump when the game announced that he'd set a new high score.

The blonde turned around to grab the Wii remote, and smirked when he noticed Stanley's presence.

"Hey, babe, wanna dance?" he asked with a wink. Stan snorted and shrugged.

"Sure, but I suck at this game," Stan warned, taking the other Wii remote from the table.

Kenny put a hand to his chin as though he were in deep thought. "Y'know, you're gonna get pretty hot dancing in a sweater and jeans, you might want to strip down," he said with a seductive smile.

Stan blushed, but smirked. "Good idea," he muttered as he removed his shirt.

"Hmm, what song should we do?" Kenny pondered, searching the list of songs on the television. "Ah, perfect!" he declared as the blonde selected the song 'It's Raining Men'.

"Dude, that song is so gay," Stan complained. Kenny looked at him and laughed. Stan rolled his eyes. "Okay, I know, pretty ironic coming from me…"

Kenny chuckled as he started hitting notes. Stan tried to do the same on the other dance pad, but fell a few beats behind. His boyfriend turned to watch the teen slip and miss note after note, sweating despite wearing nothing but his underwear.

The blonde finally took pity on his friend and paused the game. "Jeez, could you turn the difficulty down, maybe?" Stan asked with a look.

Kenny chuckled. "It's already on 'beginner'."

Stan blushed and frowned. "Fine, well… maybe you'll just have to show me how it's done," he challenged.

The blonde smiled. "No problem," he said, taking Stan's hands and un-pausing the game. "All you have to do is hit the arrows," he instructed, tapping the arrows with his feet on Stan's dance pad.

He moved in front of his boyfriend, steadying him as Stan jumped around to hit the arrows, slightly more balanced with Kenny supporting him.

Kenny danced stupidly in front of Stan as he held his hands. "Hallelujah, it's raining men!" he sang badly. Stan laughed and attempted to hit a double-arrow. He missed, and fell to the floor.

Due to being attached at the hands, Kenny fell down after him, landing atop his boyfriend with a laugh. Stan leaned up to kiss the blonde, wrapping his arms around his neck as Kenny kissed him back.

"That's a stupid song anyways," Stan declared, not caring as the game alerted the two that they'd failed the song.

Kenny scoffed. "Pshaw, who needs it to rain men when I've got you around?" he asked rhetorically.

Stan rolled his eyes. "You're so gay, man," he said with a smile and another kiss.

"Ha-ha. Shut up and let me see how gay you really are," Kenny teased with a knowing smirk.

Stan obliged.

* * *

A/N: LOL sorry for a lame chappie, been a while since I updated, so I just threw it together :p


	24. Light Through Yonder Window

"Group five will be performing act one, scene five, part one, and finally, group six. Act one, scene five, part two." Garrison sighed and placed his head in his hands boredly.

"Aw, crap!" Cartman exclaimed upon receiving his assignment. "I'm not being this fag 'Mercutio', he has a freaking two-page monologue!"

Kyle whacked the fat boy. "Shut up and read, Cartman!"

Tweek tried to tune out the yelling as he looked up his assigned scene for the class's re-enactment of _Romeo and Juliet_.

Token, Clyde and Craig came over and told Tweek to come into the hall to practice with them. "Shakespeare was such a douche," Craig proclaimed tiredly as they exited the classroom.

The blonde shrugged. "I dunno, some of it's kinda… sweet," he said with a blush. Craig scoffed and glanced over his lines.

"Okay, I'm Capulet," Clyde proclaimed.

"I call Tybalt!" Token announced.

Craig frowned. "Fine, I'm Romeo. Tweek, you have to be Juliet."

Tweek frowned. "Who said _you_ get to be Romeo?" he challenged boldly.

Craig snorted, ignoring the blonde's question. "Alright, let's get this show on the road."

Tweek made a face, but didn't protest further. Token started our part with a long speech, followed by Clyde arguing with his character. At least, that was what Tweek deduced. The teen hardly regarded Shakespeare's plays as English.

Tweek had gotten lost in trying to follow the reading, jumping as Craig suddenly grabbed his hand. He jerked away, before realizing that it was a part of the play and settling down.

"If I profane with my unworthiest hand," Craig recited with an arrogant smirk. "This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand." His voice was smooth, calm, and… more than a little seductive.

Tweek blushed and read his line shakily: "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer." Craig leaned in closer.

"Then move not while my prayer's effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd…" Tweek glanced down to read his line. '_Kisses her…?'_

Craig captured the blonde in a gently kiss, and, before he could respond, pulled away.

"Fag," Clyde murmured.

Craig rolled his eyes. "You want it to be legit or do you want to fail English?" he asked simply.

Clyde snorted, but didn't reply.

Tweek was still in shock from Craig's kiss that he forgot about his lines. "Oh, right, uh… You kiss by th' book." Craig smirked and kissed him again, not bothering to censor himself as he snaked his hand up Tweek's shirt, making the blonde twitch.

"Dude, that's definitely not in the play," Token said, examining the text to make sure. Clyde snickered as Tweek placed his hands on Craig's hips, completely forgetting the other two's presence.

"We're _definitely_ getting an 'A'," Clyde remarked with a grin.

* * *

All quotes are Shakespear's. And yes, I realize I left out a few lines.


	25. Baby, You Can Drive My Car

"You ready?" Kyle asked as Kenny started the car.

The blonde nodded. "Yeah, I'm pretty good at driving."

Kyle smiled. "Good, hopefully we can be done by lunch." Kenny nodded and put the car in drive. Kyle cleared his throat obviously. "Seatbelt."

"Oh, right." Kenny blushed and fastened his seatbelt. He backed out of their parking spot, narrowly avoiding the Jeep parked beside them.

Kenny's peer driving instructor swallowed nervously. "Careful, Ken."

The blonde nodded and sped away down the street, missing a stop sign completely. Kyle frowned. "I thought you said you were good at driving," he murmured.

Kenny coughed. "Well, I haven't, uh, practiced in a while. But don't worry, I got it," Kenny reassured his friend as he turned sharply to the left.

Kyle sighed. "Okay, pull over here, I want you to parallel-park."

Kenny made a face. "Fine," he said, preparing to do the manoeuvre. Kyle watched in terror as Kenny attempted to drive around the car in front of them, less than an inch away from hitting it.

"Brake," Kyle said. Kenny braked. "Here, I'll help you," he said in exasperation, placing his soft hands over Kenny's rough ones.

Kyle's eyes met Kenny's and the Jew smiled. "Don't worry. Okay, now coast back." Kenny released the brake, allowing the vehicle to roll backwards into the parking spot, albeit much too quickly.

"STOP!" Kyle exclaimed. "Okay, just a bit slower, okay?" he said comfortingly. Kenny snickered at the sexual innuendo as Kyle turned the wheel quickly, oblivious to the double entendre.

The blonde smirked. "Should I drive forward now?" he asked slyly. Kyle nodded. "Fast or slow?"

Kyle finally picked up on the wordplay. With a giggle, he replied, "Nice and slow, Ken."

Once Kenny had pulled up, Kyle smirked. "Now, put your hand on the stick shift. Yep, just like that," he said suggestively.

Kenny grinned and finished his parallel-park.

Kyle smiled. "Good job. That was easy, wasn't it?" he said with a wink.

Kenny nodded. The redhead was just about to remove his hands from the steering wheel when Kenny took Kyle's hands in his own and kissed him, his heart pounding in celebration when Kyle kissed him back.

Kyle smirked and pulled away. "Now, Kenny, I don't think I should be infatuated with a student…" he said teasingly.

Kenny snickered. "Well, _Professor,_ I guess I'll just have to change your mind," he said, kissing the Jew again. "You know, there's something else you can do in a car besides driving …"

The redhead chuckled. "Better hope you're better at that than driving."

"Definitely."

"Then you can drive my car any time you like," Kyle said with a grin.

Unfortunately, the two friends were not finished by lunch. Luckily, neither much cared.

* * *

Title cred to the Beatles :)


	26. Friends With Benefits?

Stan opened his locker door, dumping his math and art binders into the abyss that was his locker. Suddenly, someone slammed the door shut in his face. He turned to see a frantic red-head.

"Hey dude, what's up? Wha–"

Before the teenager could finish his sentence, Kyle's lips were on his and his tongue was down his throat. After finally processing what was happening, Stan shoved his friend away.

"Holy crap, dude, what was that?" he asked incredulously, looking around to see who had seen them. Thankfully nobody had seemed to notice.

Kyle turned around as a girl in their English class started down the hall. He turned back to his best friend and looked at him desperately.

"Stan, she wants to go out with me, but I don't like her, and I don't want to hurt her feelings, so if she thinks I have a boyfriend then she'll leave me alone, and people already think we're dating anyways, so please just pretend for a sec, okay?"

Stan blinked. "Uh, okay. Wait, who thinks we're –"

Again, the words remained unspoken as Kyle reattached his mouth to Stan's. Stan kissed Kyle back in the most heterosexual way possible as Kyle backed him up against a locker.

Stan wondered if this was really just a friend doing another friend a favour as they both crossed lines, Stan placing a hand on the back of Kyle's head and the Jew sneaking a hand up his friend's shirt.

Both boys heard the unmistakable clicking of the girl's high heels as she quickly walked past them, but neither of them stopped.

It wasn't until Kenny appeared in front of them laughing his ass off that they finally pulled away.

"Uh…" Stan began, but Kyle just thanked him and hurried away. Kenny looked at him expectantly.

"So, you guys are finally together, huh?"

Stan blushed heavily. "Shut up, it's a long story."

Kenny snickered and opened his own locker, muttering about how 'it was about time' that Stan 'manned up'.

Stan half-heartedly told Kenny to shut up again, and tried to hide a grin as he opened his locker.


	27. You Turn My Software Into Hardware

"Hey, baby, what's up?"

Craig rolled his eyes and pretended not to notice his arrogant boyfriend leaning up against his counter. "C'mon, asshole, I'm working," he said, not taking his eyes off his clipboard. He left the counter to continue stocking a new shipment of paint cans onto his department's shelves.

"All the more reason to bother you," Kenny replied with a shit-eating grin. He played with the colour swatches on Craig's counter and hummed a pop song. "When're you done?"

Craig sighed and heaved a few buckets onto the shelves. "Seven. But I have a paper due tomorrow I have to work on."

Kenny scoffed. "Yeah, that's not getting done." Sarcasm dripped from his voice. "C'mon, there isn't even anyone here! Let's go home."

He received an irritated look. "Get out of here, man. I got work to do," Craig declared, holding up his clipboard.

"I don't think so." Kenny's inner gayadar spiked as a rather attractive young man walked by. Kenny gave him a half-smile, which grew to a full grin when he got a smile back. The other man continued past the paint department into the auto department, but not without giving Kenny a wink.

Before he even realized he'd been caught, Craig was bitching at him.

"Are you fucking serious? What the hell was that?"

Kenny laughed awkwardly. "Nothing, nothing. I just… liked his shirt was all," he improvised. Craig glanced back to the hot blonde now searching for a car part a few aisles down. Kenny mentally kicked himself upon realizing his shirt was a plain, white polo.

Craig shook his head. "You're unbelievable." He said nothing more as he went back to putting cans of paint on shelves.

Kenny groaned. "Come _on,_ Craig, get the stick out of your ass!"

The black-haired twenty-one-year-old scowled. "Screw you." He flashed him the middle finger after making sure his boss wasn't around to see.

"Just chill out. I haven't gotten any in like a week, man." Craig's face only got more furious at this comment. "Not that it's your fault. Just, y'know, work and everything. I understand." He was still very unimpressed. "Can't a guy just be himself? You know me; you know what you signed up for!"

Craig rolled his eyes and returned to the counter to write in a logbook. Kenny leaned on the counter and did his best 'apology' face.

"Cut it out, asshole. Any chance you had of getting laid tonight just went out the window."

"Dammit. I might as well go pick him up then," Kenny murmured.

Craig scoffed. "Yeah, like he'd bang you anyway." He typed something into the computer at the counter. "Besides, since when do you meet people at _hardware stores_?"

Kenny laughed, happy that Craig was at least friendly enough to joke about his sluttiness. "All the time. You don't even know; hardware stores are gay hooker Meccas."

Craig smirked but tried to hide it.

"After all, why else would they call them 'hardware stores'?" The blonde added a suggestive eyebrow wiggle for effect.

Craig burst into laughter and put a hand to his face. "You're too much." He gave him a reluctant smile that Kenny knew all too well as his 'apology accepted' smile.

"I loooove youuu," Kenny crooned across the counter.

Craig sighed lovingly and gave him a modest peck on the lips.

"So about that sex you were withholding…"

Craig smirked. "Don't push it."

Kenny held up his hands in defence. "Not pushing it, not pushing it." The handsome, blonde, problem-causer from earlier made his way back through the store towards the checkout. He gave them both a smile.

Craig cleared his throat to make Kenny turn back towards him.

"Haha, sorry."

"At this rate, it'll be Christmas before you get so much as a handjob."

* * *

Heeeey... :) I'm sorry. I know. I haven't updated in almost a year. I'll be good. I promise.

BTW, no more Stennys, I'm doing Crennys instead. As you can see.

Also I'm sooooorrrrryyyy :D


	28. Lest We Forget

"You're still coming home on Tuesday, right?" Tweek asked shakily into the microphone. Craig smiled and reassured the panicked-looking blonde that he was indeed returning on Tuesday. "Don't die before then!" Tweek added, giving Craig a worried look.

The Corporal on the other end sighed. "It's one more week, I'll be fine. I've only lost one man in the last two missions."

Tweek nodded, though he didn't seem to be reassured.

"Don't worry so much," Craig advised, though he knew his lover wouldn't listen. "I gotta go, I'll talk to you tomorrow, babe."

Tweek forced a half-smile. "Love you."

"Love you too. See yah!"

Tweek sighed as the connection was lost, his Skype popping up to inform him of this fact. He checked the time: only twenty-three and a half hours until he'd get to see Craig again.

He closed his laptop and headed out to his studio; with the time change, the only time the two were able to chat was at four in the morning, Tweek's time. Not that he much minded, being a morning person. In fact, since Craig's deployment in Afghanistan, Tweek's art had improved; he found himself doing his best work in the wee hours of the morning and with an anxious mind.

It had been nearly ten months that Tweek had been without his best friend and husband, and it had taken quite a toll on him. His friends commented on his withdrawnness and anxiety, both of which he'd been trying to get over. He'd also grown a modest, blonde beard. Craig said it made him look like an artsy hipster, which Tweek had decided to take as a compliment.

The following morning at four o'clock sharp, Tweek stared at his Skype in anticipation, mug of coffee (one cream, six sugars) in his hand. The unilluminated icon next to Craig's name and photo of him in his military uniform and shaved head stared him in the eyes.

He got up to feed the cat. Still nothing when he returned.

Still nothing ten minutes later.

Tweek was silently freaking out, staring worriedly at his computer screen. He checked his internet connection, his Skype connection, his battery power. He breathed deeply and tried not to picture his husband's dead body lying on the front lines somewhere in the Middle East.

_Oh God, what happened to him?!_

He could be dead. Or taken as a prisoner of war. Or eaten alive by rabid members of al Qaeda.

At five, Tweek gave up reluctantly to go paint. He was unfocused, however, and managed to ruin his cloudy sky with a single brush stroke of poorly blended grey. His hands shook too much to adequately hold the paint brush, so he gave up.

He was so strung up that even two extra cups of coffee couldn't calm him down. He tried to distract himself with a movie and comforting thoughts: _maybe he's just away on a mission he forgot to tell me about. Maybe his internet is down. Afghanistan probably doesn't have the best wifi._

But even the soothing voice of Robert Downy Junior's Sherlock Holmes couldn't calm him.

It was days such as these that Tweek was glad not to have a normal job that involved leaving the house.

He checked his computer every hour in desperate hope that Craig will have logged on with some fantastic, reassuring reason for his absence, but to no avail. Tweek crawled into bed at ten, lied away until one, and finally slept until four.

Nothing. Again.

Oh Jesus, something was seriously wrong. Craig had definitely been blown up, or kidnapped, or shot. Actually, the one time Craig _had _been shot – albeit only on the tip of his finger – he'd called from the hospital at his regularly scheduled time. This was bad.

Days passed as Tweek panicked himself into a state of shock and confusion. By Sunday, the only time he'd left his bedroom was to make coffee and sprint downstairs to answer the phone. (It had disappointingly been Kenny, wondering why he'd skipped their NA meeting that week and if he was okay. Tweek had managed to convince him he was.)

Tuesday morning, Tweek had hit 'refresh' on his Skype like usual, and, like usual, got nothing. He hadn't stopped crying the entire week, it seemed. His eyes were bottomless wells of frantic, worried tears. He'd emailed Craig and his superiors countless times, but received no response. He knew it was a long shot, but decided to drive down to the airport anyway to see if he could at least get word from one of Craig's colleagues. He wasn't sure if any of them even lived in Colorado.

Of course, the flight was delayed. Tweek ran through the flight changes in his head to try and calm himself: Kabul to Istanbul, Istanbul to New York, New York to Denver. He sat nervously next to a pregnant woman and her two children, likely freaking them out with his shaking hands and rugged appearance.

The gate door opened, and a few random people entered the terminal, some with loving family members to greet them, others seeming to be on business and simply leaving the airport with Bluetooth headsets in their ears.

No signs of any military personnel, let alone Craig.

Tweek grew more and more anxious. He stopped one of the businessmen exiting the gate to politely ask what flight he'd come from. Damn, it was only the twelve-oh-five from Phoenix.

He waited nervously for another thirty minutes before another group of people discharged from the gate, flooding into the waiting area like a herd of cattle. It took Tweek a moment before he registered the fact that two people coming down the ramp were in military dress. His heart skipped a beat and his hands wrung together nervously.

"Excuse me," he said after a military woman had reunited with her husband. She looked annoyed, but he powered through regardless: "Um, do you know if Corporal Craig Tucker is coming? Was he on your flight?"

The woman's eyes brightened. "Oh, yeah, you must be his husband, I've heard so much about you!" He beamed in relief. Tweek's stomach flipped when her face suddenly went from delighted to saddened. "It's too bad about what happened last week, huh? He's a good man, we're going to miss him."

"Miss him?" Tweek choked out, heart racing in his chest, ready to burst forth from his ribcage any second. "W-what happened?"

The woman gave him a pitying look. "He should be coming soon…" Just as she'd said it, Tweek saw Craig's signature blue winter hat, contrasting oddly with his military uniform, out of the corner of his eye.

"There he is," the woman said, pointing. Tweek just nodded solemnly as the black-haired soldier wheeled himself towards them. He was grinning despite the restrictive wheelchair he was seated in and the complete absence of his lower right leg. Tweek was unable to move, unable to speak as Craig took his hand and gave him a weak, sad smile.

"Sorry I didn't tell you," he said, his nasally voice cracking as he spoke. Tweek shook his head and leaned down to kiss him for the first time in ten months. "I didn't want you to worry."

"Are you kidding me?" Tweek exclaimed. "I worried more that you didn't call or email or anything! I've been freaking out all week!"

Craig rubbed his hand to calm him down. Tweek stared at the clean bandaging around Craig's bad leg. He thought he was going to be sick.

The two retrieved Craig's luggage and left the airport promptly. Craig had insisted that he didn't need help wheeling himself around the building. Tweek let him be though he could see his muscles shaking from the long journey and the physical stress. The blonde decided that Craig's pride was more important. "So, what uh, h-happened?" Tweek asked anxiously as they headed for the elevator down to the parking lot.

"We were moving up the lines, I'd been in front to lead my platoon, and all of a sudden, wham!" he punctuated this by smacking his fist against his open palm, "land mine goes off, about eight feet from where I'm standing. I was lucky to only lose the leg."

Tweek swallowed and tried not to freak out. "Lucky?"

Craig nodded, nonchalant. "Yeah, and they patched me up pretty quick, too. I was out for a couple days and then when I came to, I was in the hospital, but not in the city, it would've been too far. So no Internet, no phones." Only now did his face seem emotional. "I've been discharged."

The two men were silent as the elevator took them down three levels and they entered the parking lot, Craig still pushing himself along and Tweek still dragging his suitcase behind him.

"Wait," Tweek said, "how'd the mine go off, doesn't someone have to step on it? How is it that you were only eight feet away, and none of your platoon got injured?" He was no military strategist, but something seemed off.

Craig almost looked guilty. "Enemy soldier tried to charge us from out of nowhere," he explained quietly. "I saw the mine zone – taped off and flagged – and he ran right towards it. I went at him to stop him, but by the time I was there, it was too late, he'd set one off."

Tweek was silent.

"I'd pinned him down, though, and he was fine. A private told me all that, though, since I don't remember it at all."

They'd reached the car. "So you risked your life to save an enemy soldier?"

Craig scoffed. "Don't."

Tweek gave him a smile. "C'mon, that's pretty noble. You should get a medal or something."

A melancholy smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to come home like this," he said lightly, gesturing to his leg.

Tweek shook his head and leaned down to kiss him again. "You saved him. You're a hero."

"Am not. I was just stupid, and now I'm missing a piece of leg. I was gonna use that later!" he joked. Tweek smiled.

"It's not stupid. I'm proud of you."

Craig blushed lightly. "Well then I guess I'm a hero."

Tweek laughed and piled his husband's bags into the trunk of the car. He offered to help Craig into the passenger seat, but as he'd figured, he refused his help in assertion of being completely self-sufficient. Tweek just smiled fondly and climbed into the car himself.


	29. The Hangover

He realized the clichéd nature of his situation immediately. How many crappy pornos had he seen where the guy wakes up hungover next to another dude? Actually, only one. But that's not the point.

Kyle groaned as pain flooded into his head, nausea bubbled in his stomach, his eyeballs burned with each tiny fraction of light that crept in through his eyelids. His backside ached, which only stood to remind him of his poor judgement even more. To speak nothing of the long, muscular arm that was draped over his torso and the head of black hair nestled against his chest and neck.

What had happened? Of course he remembered the celebratory drink the four friends (plus Ike, unfortunately) had all shared last night (_what had we been celebrating again_?), but most of the night seemed like a blur. A muddled, sexy blur. He managed to remember snippets of the night's events – Cartman puking after doing a straight shot of tequila at nine, Kenny playing karaoke at ten, Ike making everyone milkshakes before we went to sleep at eleven, Stan screwing his brains out for god knows how long.

Stan cuddled closer to him and snaked their legs together. Kyle didn't want to move, but he felt his stomach turn and he had to bolt out of the room to the bathroom. He purged his stomach of the too-many-to-count shots of whiskey he'd done the previous night. After cleaning himself up, he returned to Stan's bedroom and put his glasses on.

"Stan," he whispered to the sleeping man on the bed. "Got any aspirin?"

His friend shifted on the mattress and pointed to his desk across the room. "Second drawer." He stirred slowly, watching hazily as his best friend found the pills.

Kyle retrieved the Advil and took one, begging the second heartbeat in his head to relent. Realizing he was buck naked, he retrieved his clothes and put them on. He tied his long curls of red hair back and put his hands to his eyes. He sat back down next to Stan, who ran a calloused hand up Kyle's arm. They kissed for a few moments, if only to delay getting up.

After, Kyle, despite his body ordering him back to sleep, went out to the living room to inspect the damage and possibly locate his brother, Kenny and Cartman.

The fat man had previously been located on Stan's parents' couch, which Kyle could infer from the huge ass groove in the sofa. A few glass bottles littered the room, which Kyle gathered up, knowing he was the likely the least hungover and the only one that would voluntarily clean up.

Stan finally emerged from his room, hair a mess, half naked and his eyes telling Kyle that he was surely the victim of a terrible headache. "Thanks," he muttered in response to his friend cleaning up his living room.

"Sit down," Kyle advised him, leaning into him for another, brief, kiss. He did so and put a hand to his forehead in exhaustion.

"Where's Cartman?" Stan asked quietly. "And Kenny. And Ike."

Kyle shook his head. "Dunno. Oh, I'm pretty sure Ike's in Shelly's room." Stan nodded, closing his eyes and laying back on the couch. "I can't remember much after nine or ten o'clock, you?"

"I remember going to work in the morning. Then going to the liquor store after. Then nothing. Oh – I remember picking up my coke from Clyde..."

Kyle gave his friend an angry look. "You knew Kenny was coming, why would you keep drugs in the same house as him?"

Stan sighed. "Sorry, I know. I keep forgetting."

"Well we'd better find him, make sure he didn't snort himself to death," the redhead grumbled pointedly. The other man agreed and they looked around the house for their friend.

Kyle was surprised to find Cartman in the kitchen, pouring spoonful after spoonful of sugar into a cup of coffee. "Morning," he said.

"Morning."

Kyle raised his eyebrows as the fat man continued to heave piles of sugar into the cup. "Would you like some coffee with your sugar, sir?" Kyle mocked him. Cartman stuck his tongue out at him and took a sip. He shook his head and went back for more sugar. The Jew just laughed to himself.

"Where's your fuck-buddy?" Eric grumbled.

The other rolled his eyes. "Looking for Kenny. Have you seen him?"

"Nope. Check the strip club down the street, though."

"Ha-ha," Kyle deadpanned. "Stan was stupid enough to bring home a bunch of coke last night, and Kenny just got his 'six month sober' chip."

Cartman scoffed and Kyle went to check the downstairs bathroom and the garage, but to no avail. He headed upstairs to see if Stan had located the blonde.

"Not up here," Stan informed him when they met. "Want to call his phone, maybe?"

Kyle nodded. "Good idea." He retrieved his phone from Stan's room (locating it under a sock, next to a bottle of lube) and punched Kenny's number into the device. They listened intently for the ring, hoping Kenny's phone wouldn't be on silent or lost.

They heard the chirp of their friend's phone coming from down the hall. "Didn't you check Shelly's room?" Kyle asked, sure that said room was the origin of the noise.

Stan shook his head. "Ike's in there."

Kyle opened the door before yelping in shock at the sight of his sixteen-year-old brother entwined with his twenty-one-year-old friend on the bed.

"KENNY?!"

The blonde snapped awake and nearly fell off the bed. Ike, too, stirred suddenly and jerked his head in the direction of the door. Kyle lunged across the room and grabbed Kenny by the throat, pulling him away from his brother. He gave him one swift, well-deserved punch in the face.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Kyle yelled afterward, eyes glaring daggers at the blonde, who, despite Kyle's raised voice and fist in his face, was still scarcely awake. At the same time, he looked terrified of the Jew's angry expression. "He's _sixteen_, you pervert!"

The still-naked man grabbed Kyle's hand and separated it from his neck while pleading his case: "Holy shit, Kyle, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, I swear, I was just really drunk, so was he! It's all a misunderstanding! Please don't rip my throat out!"

When Kyle had managed to calm down slightly, he turned to Ike. "What were you thinking?" he scolded.

Ike looked positively mortified. "Kyle, I'm sorry, it's my fault, I started it, okay? Honestly, it was me."

Kyle looked between the two offenders with a glare, but didn't scream at either one any further. He sighed, left them to get dressed, and headed back downstairs with Stan.

"Well that's pretty fucked up," Stan said simply.

"That's for sure."

Stan frowned. "Hey, if Kenny's upstairs, then where's my stash?"

The ginger scoffed. "Hopefully in the garbage."

Cartman was on the couch again, eyes closed, coffee drunk. Kyle stepped out back to smoke and think of a hundred and one ways to kill Kenny. He'd come back to life anyway, so why not?

Stan joined him on the deck a few moments later, holding his hand casually. The bitter cold ate at their bare arms and feet, but they'd gotten used to it. If you're gonna be a smoker in South Park, you'd better be ready to stand in the cold for most of your free time. "Want the rest?" Kyle asked, referring to the one-third of a cigarette he had left. Stan nodded, smoking it right down to the filter.

"So I think I know where it went," he said, referring to his drugs.

"Where?" Kyle asked, only half-caring.

The black-haired man smirked and directed them back inside. He pointed to Cartman, who was sitting straight up, grinding his teeth furiously and staring at an imaginary spot on his arm. He suddenly jerked his head up and started laughing.

Kyle shot Stan a confused look.

"Thought it was sugar, loaded it in his coffee. Fucking idiot."

Kyle face-palmed. Kenny and Ike came downstairs, only intensifying Kyle's feelings of wondering why he was friends with these insane people. Stan got Kenny to help drag Cartman out of the crater he'd made in the sofa.

"C'mon," the blonde said patronizingly to Cartman, coaxing him off the couch and into the bathroom. "You're gonna have to throw up, okay?"

The fat man protested, but the other three heard Kenny kick him in the stomach a few seconds later. A groan, a wretch, then running water.

"It's all good!" they heard him call out.

With a monstrous sigh, Kyle went to get more aspirin and collapsed on Stan's bed with the intent to sleep for the rest of his life.


	30. I Wanna Take You To a Gay Bar

"C'mon, it'll be fun!" Kenny said with a grin as he pulled Craig towards the lineup to get into the club.

Craig groaned, but followed his boyfriend exhaustedly. "No it won't."

The blonde looked back and gave him a mock-pout. "We never do stuff together," he complained, "Can you at least _pretend_ to have fun?" The group in front of them in the line turned around to look at them as Kenny pestered him.

Craig looked judgingly at the transvestites staring at them and whispered, "But does it have to be a gay club?"

Kenny roared with laughter. He nudged one of the crossdressers and pointed at Craig playfully. For drag queens, Craig noticed that they didn't look very amused.

"Lighten up," Kenny said when he regained his voice. "We won't see anyone from school, don't worry."

Craig narrowed his eyes. "You don't know that, we're right downtown! Ten minutes from campus!" They took a step forward as the line moved. Kenny looked him in the eye and took his hand. The black-haired young man nearly pulled away, but instead sighed, conceding that Kenny was likely right. At the same time, he found himself looking around, afraid of catching a classmate's eye the entire night.

When they finally reached the front of the line, Craig's heart pounded as he brandished his fake ID and Kenny showed his real one, having a few months on Craig. The bouncer eyed him for a second before letting them in.

The blonde grinned at Craig's overwhelmed-looking expression as lights and music hit them full-force. "Drinks?"

He nodded and the two made their way through the bizarre crowd (Craig was sure he'd seen a man with a parrot on his shoulder dancing with a woman with one eyebrow) to the bar.

After they ordered and took two shots apiece, Kenny dragged Craig out onto the dance floor, which was littered with sexual deviants and normal-looking people alike. They caught sight of the transvestites from the line and Kenny waved emphatically.

Kenny, as Craig was well aware, was a terrible dancer, which he evidenced shamelessly by jumping up and down, flailing his arms every which way. Craig couldn't help laughing when he tore his shirt off and whipped it around above his head, justifiably alarming many of the people around them. Craig was pretty sure he was just doing it to calm him down and keep the mood light, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

"Come grind with me!" Kenny cried over the music, pointing to a couple a few feet away who were moving against one another in a way that didn't really resemble dancing to Craig. But, seeing the excited-slash-sexy look in his friend's face, he just laughed and agreed, moving to stand behind Kenny as he ground his hips against his.

Kenny, his somewhat slutty, outgoing self, didn't hold back, one hand on Craig's hip, the other on the back of his own neck, shimmying up and down his body. Craig, unused to being gay in public (as blunt as that sounded), was much less comfortable, but with each smile Kenny gave him, he relaxed a bit more. He soon found himself gripping Kenny's torso and holding him close as they swung back and forth.

The blonde eventually stopped, not letting Craig catch his breath before he kissed him chastely. The men returned to the bar for another drink, chests heaving and brows sweaty.

"Having fun?" Kenny said as they sat down for a moment, each sipping a mixed drink. Craig gave him a half-smile and nodded.

Kenny grinned. "Told you!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna go to the bathroom," the other said, standing up and heading towards a large, neon "male" symbol across the club. He laughed to himself when he realized he was already halfway to drunk after only two and a half shots. He vowed not to let Kenny discover this embarrassing fact.

The silence of the restroom was a welcome contrast to the blasting, heart-thumping music outside. Discomfort washed over him when a muffled sound from one of the stalls made him nearly jump out of his skin. Another made him blush, realizing what the occupant(s) of the stall was/were doing.

Craig hurriedly emptied his bladder and returned to the club without breathing too heavily.

"Kenny?" he said loudly when he returned to their table and didn't find his boyfriend there. He glanced around.

Craig thought he must've been seeing things when he caught sight of a tall, muscled brunette man talking to Kenny at the bar. It couldn't be Kenny, could it? Same hair, spiked up at the front. Same too-tight "Sex Pistols" shirt, same ripped jeans... His train of thought derailed when he saw Kenny lean over to this stranger's ear. Craig stared for a moment longer to be sure of what he was witnessing before marching over there to give Kenny a piece of his mind.

Kenny didn't have time to say a word as Craig grabbed him by the arm and yanked him away from the intruder and thicket of club-goers and off to the side of the room.

He scowled and hissed: "What are you doing? Were you flirting with him?!"

Kenny opened his mouth, but Craig cut him off.

"I'm gone for two minutes and you run off to find another date?"

"Craig –"

"I didn't even want to come to this stupid club, if you'll recall," Craig continued, oblivious to the unimpressed look gracing Kenny's face. "I only came here because _you _wanted to!"

Craig kept talking, but Kenny tried to speak over him. "Just listen to me –"

"... probably just because he's tall, is that it? Well guess what? Five-seven is barely below average. And you know I have a hard time building muscle, it's because of my body type!"

Kenny grabbed the other man by the shoulders and shook him out of it. "Calm down," he said with a roll of his eyes. "He was watching us, and he asked me for _your_ number, retard. I told him to screw off."

Craig was at a loss for words for a moment before turning a brilliant shade of crimson and staring at the floor.

Kenny just chuckled and ran a hand through Craig's hair. "Just relax," he said, taking his hand and kissing him. Their lips connected for a few moments before Craig's tongue subconsciously found Kenny's and danced around it. Their hands grabbed arms, necks and t-shirts for a few seconds before Craig pulled away.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. And I'll have you know that being short is a huge turn-on for me," he said with a smirk.

Craig scoffed. "C'mon, you've only got a few inches on me –"

"Like six or seven."

The black-haired man playfully jabbed him with his elbow. "Shut up."

They exchanged another deep kiss before Kenny said, "What do you say we blow this joint? If we hurry, we can get back in time to catch the end of _The Tonight Show_."

"No, it's okay," Craig said, leading the two of them towards the dance floor once more. "I think I could do with some more booze and dancing."

Kenny's face lit up and he bounded into the crowd with a newfound air of confidence he didn't need any more of. Craig was content just to laugh and play along.


End file.
